Finding Myself Between the Lines: Maximus, Odysseus, and the Stories That Shaped Me

I hated reading. To me, there was no value in sitting down for hours on end trying to discover someone else’s story. I always thought—and still think—that movies or TV series are the best mediums for storytelling. I was so certain of this that I used to watch at least four movies a day during summer vacation. That doesn’t even count the number of times I re-watched Goodfellas again and again… and again. Or how I would relive scenes from the greatest movie of all time, The Godfather.

But let’s be honest—my absolute favorite character wasn’t in either of those films. It was Maximus from Gladiator. There was something about how both generals and gladiators respected him alike. Didn’t matter the room. He was good in any hood. The loyalty he commanded on and off the battlefield left a lasting mark on me. Maximus was more than just a warrior—he was a leader who earned the love and respect of those around him, regardless of their station. As he said, “What we do in life echoes in eternity.” That line hit different. Maximus wasn’t just fighting for Rome; he was fighting for something eternal, for his values, for his family. That resonated with me on a deeper level, even before I knew it.

I loved movies so much that I eventually stopped wanting to be a pilot or a cowboy. Instead, I wanted to make movies. There’s something about storytelling that really catches my spirit.

My parents tried everything to get me to read. They even hid money in books, thinking that would do the trick. Spoiler alert: it didn’t. Reading just wasn’t my thing.

Then came Mr. Stelljes. He really sealed the deal. Reading was so required and his quizzes so detailed, I had no choice but to analyze every line of text. I mean, he would ask stuff like, “What was the color of [insert random underrated character’s] socks?” I used to get straight Cs! Because prior to that, reading was just a means to an end. I read to get the grade. I never enjoyed it.

Then… “Class, today we will start reading The Odyssey.” And friends, let me tell you—my dude Homer is the HOMIE. He completely changed my life, and Odysseus became my first real hero. The story was absolutely incredible. I couldn’t stop reading it, even though it was written in some weird, old-school language. Old English or something. In fact, I’ve realized that sometimes, when I imagine the best version of myself, I’m really just creating a black male version of Odysseus in my head. LMAO.

I even carry a ceremonial copy of The Odyssey in my trunk. The irony isn’t lost on me. But what was it about Odysseus? Was it his triumphs? The story of a man who left home, conquered challenges, and fought to return? Maybe it was the struggle, the tension between fate and free will. Odysseus didn’t just survive his journey—he fought every step of the way to win it. That’s something that resonates with me. It wasn’t just that he was trying to get home—it was that he was becoming the best version of himself along the way. And isn’t that the journey we’re all on?

But the journey wasn’t just about Odysseus for me. It was about themes. Once I learned how to look for themes in novels, reading felt like a treasure hunt. It wasn’t just about reading the words; it was about finding hidden meanings and truths that I could apply to my own life. Every time I spotted a new theme, it felt like unlocking a new piece of myself. Even to this day, I love doing this. There’s something satisfying about cracking the code of a good book. It turns a simple story into something with layers—something you can go back to again and again, always finding something new.

It’s funny to think that Maximus and Odysseus both made such an impact on me. Maximus was the warrior whose strength came from his moral compass, his fight for what was right, no matter the cost. Odysseus was the strategist—the man who never stopped thinking, always adapting to new challenges. Both men were outsiders in their own way, but each was a leader, a hero who fought for something bigger than himself. Both stories collided with my spirit and left a mark. They changed how I saw the world, how I saw myself.

I started to realize that what we read might impact us, but what we love collides with our spirit in a way that ignites something deeper. It’s more than an impression—it causes an evolution, whether we’re aware of it or not. That’s what Homer did to me. The Odyssey was more than just an epic tale; it resonated with something inside me, something that pushed me to think differently about storytelling, about heroism, about life.

And what changed about me? I started to gravitate toward stories that have a singular hero. All of them. Someone coloring outside the lines, thinking differently despite the odds. I’m not sure if it’s Odysseus who informed who I am today, or if it’s the other way around. A psychological chicken-and-egg paradox. But what I’ve learned is that when a story resonates with you, it doesn’t just sit there. It pushes you, shapes you, and changes the way you see yourself and the world.

Either way, Homer and Odysseus made me see the power in stories I once overlooked. Now, I see the value in digging deep, reading between the lines, and finding the hero in every story—even in my own.