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I still wanted to dream. Yes, I was able accept life as it was, but maybe it still hadn't truly clicked in yet.

To think I would have to give up on my dreams, or stop making new ones, just didn't quite fit for some reason. Yes I could be happy enough, but there had to be more. I should've been able to ask for more. There must have been more to expect out of my remaining days.

The more I was told to accept life as it was, the more I felt trapped. Trapped by the expectation to be happy with my lot in life. Yes, I'd made mistakes. Yes, others had made mistakes, or even intentionally wronged me. I suppose I didn't quite understand the line between giving up and making peace with where I was at.

I could imagine so much more, it almost seemed real. But I was unsure if the attempt to reach it was the true source of my discontent. If I looked around, I could imagine a better version of everything. It prevented me from appreciating things for what they were.

The need for constant improvement was too ingrained, always promising future happiness while sacrificing happiness in the present. I tried to remind myself to do things that would make me enjoy the day I was doing them, rather than sacrifice that day on the altar of the future

It wasn't easy. Other things were always getting in the way. Too many things demanded my attention. Often multiple things at once. Maybe my life was getting completely sidetracked by unimportant things, things that only seemed important at the time, and were too difficult to ignore. Like a neighbor who refused to stop knocking on my door.

I tried to make peace with that. To accept the constant intrusions. To try to grow a tolerance and not let them bother me. Yet I still dreamed of a day when I could escape them. I could try to learn to enjoy the dungeon I was imprisoned in, or I could try to escape that dungeon. But that was probably a false dichotomy. If escape from imprisonment were a game, then perhaps enjoyment should be found in the playing of the game.

There was a dance that led to the place of calm, peace, joy, and light. And I had to learn to enjoy the dance as well. Unfortunately there were too many things that I was not able to enjoy. Too many chores, errands, and missions that were forced upon me by life's circumstances, rather than things I would have chosen myself.

Sometimes it was the dreams themselves that provided me comfort. If I could imagine myself already there, the rest of the past did not seem so bad. But then I would open my eyes, and all would fade again, leaving a cold gray that paled in comparison to where I dreamed of going

The high may have been great, but the crash afterwards was not something I wanted to face. I needed to find a better way, a more stable and reliable source of the moments I treasured. I tried to keep my eyes and mind open, so that I wouldn't miss potential roads to where I wanted to find myself.

That provided some hope, and some amount of pleasantness to the long journey, but hope wasn't quite enough to make the trip truly enjoyable. I suppose many people simply stopped to smell the roses, and never got back up. Maybe I'd join them someday, but not then. I didn't want to feel giving up was the only true solution.

There were so many miles I still wanted to cover. I could still see possibilities even if sometimes it was difficult to communicate what I saw. But if others were happy enough to accept their lot in life, I felt no need to convert them. Maybe what I truly needed was a good way to ignore those who wanted to convert me.

They did not live my life, yet they believed they were better judges of what I should value. They could only live their own lives, experience the values they experienced, and see the colors they saw. It was too easy for me to forget that their view of the world was neither an objective view, nor the one I experienced. It was too easy for me to lose myself in the minds of others. I still wanted to dream.