Hestia's Story

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Hestia's Story

          I am Hestia.
          Have you even heard of me?
          Probably not, don't worry. I know billions of others who don't.
          Well, if you don't know, I'm the goddess of the hearth and the home. I am the eldest of the Olympians, being borne first out of my five siblings, but in a way, I am also the youngest, being vomited up by my stupid father Cronos the last. However, in another way, I ain't even one of the Olympians! That is my problem, not having a stable identity. In ancient Greek times, I could be called as the most famous of the gods: everybody worshipped me to have a safe and peaceful home. Every family sacrificed a swine to me before dinner each day. Yet hardly any stories or myths were written about me. They assumed my personality to be humble and kind and accepting what I have, but that's not it at all! I am definitely not content with what I'm doing now: tending the fireplace at Mt. Olympus, and very much jealous of my family members sitting high on their thrones. But just because mortals agreed what my character was like and what I had done, I have to do it and accept it on the outside! And just because some random Greek storyteller told the crowd that I gave away my throne to Dionysus to prevent a great war, the story spread and I was forced to do that! Seriously, why should I take the responsibility for the Greeks' bad math, creating 14 Olympian gods for just 12 thrones?
          And see what I ended up nowadays. Rarely any people knows me. No idioms, words, companies, or morals were originated because of me. Hardly any paintings, sculptures, or poetry were made for me. I was even marked as misspelled in Words, and looking at the red zigzagging line under my name instead of under any of the other Olympian gods', I felt so unfair. This is what you get for being humble and modest and pure, I thought, for letting mortals create their own image about me. I was forgotten by the majority of people in the contemporary world, just because I was too soft-hearted to act quick in ancient times. This is the fate of me.
          You mortals often complained how little power you had compared to divine beings, but you didn't realize how much power you held on us and how we gods depended on you. We existed and lived at all because you created us. The myths are true because you believed in them. Our looks, traits, and doings were all decided and made true by you. So I hope you to cherish your place in the world and realize how we Olympian gods, now fading because of lesser and lesser believers, envied and needed you mortals.
          Those are pretty much the reasons I wrote this text. Though mostly for hobby and fun, I decided that I just got to tell you my life and story and reveal the secret that Zeus would blast me into Tartarus if he found out. Finally, I want you to remember that a goddess named Hestia does exist and spread this to your friends or whatever, thank you!
          Bye!