Dearest Wanderer,
I have a face and a name, but those things do not matter. What matters is the story I have to share.
On a day no more special or peculiar than others, I felt alone. I have felt alone so many times in my life.
In a sea full of people, I blended, becoming one of the nameless faces that create the Eorzean people.
But I wanted someone to notice me. I wanted someone to recognize the being that I was. Not faceless, not nameless, not a passerby of insignificance. I wanted someone to care. So I shouted out into the sea of strangers, which felt more like a void, daring it to shout back.
To my surprise, it did.
Someone responded to my statement, which slips my memory now (it must have been something about how lonely I felt).
This person talked to me, reassured me of a better tomorrow that would surely follow this bad day (statistically, it had to happen at some point).
This person and I became friends, a name I could come back to when yearning for someone to know, in moments when I am surrounded by strangers.
However, it wasn’t enough. I felt unfulfilled. I longed for support, comfort, and friendship. I need a family.
A few weeks later, I asked the strangers in the Limsa Lominsan Aetheryte plaza for Free Company recommendations. I hoped I could find what I was looking for.
There were a few responses. It warmed my heart to know there were welcoming people still out there, but there was one response that I knew was right to respond back to.
The friend from before reached out to me, letting me know she ran a Free Company, small but mighty, willing to accept me. I jumped on the opportunity as quickly as I could.
My application was accepted and suddenly, I was thrust into a new world. A world where people greeted me by name each time I woke to start my next adventure, where conversations were hearty and inclusive, where help was abundant and unconditional, requiring nothing but the kindness returned. Most of all, it was a world where I belonged.
Dearest wanderer, if there is one thing I must convey to you, let it be this:
Our stories are our own, but they are also everyone else’s in some way, too. We see ourselves reflected in each other and by my own definition, that is what it means to be alive: to connect with other people.
There are people who feel exactly as you do. There are people who understand. There are people who care. You just have to find them.
Sincerely,
Another Wanderer
(who, if chosen as a winner, would love the Noble Barding)