But that was back when
everything was possible and before the
reality of the
world had truly sunk in. I was definitely a
dreamer, things ranged from what I wanted to be when I grew up (a
doctor, a
lawyer, a
policewoman, a
princess, an
astronaut,
president of
the united states, and most definitely, a
rock star) to the possibility that I would wake up the next day and discover that I had learned to fly. I would write pages and pages of such things, in fact, I wrote
stories before I knew how to read. I loved to read, but it was much nicer to create the dreams than to have them scripted for you.
Now I've grown up, in some respects anyhow, and the world is no longer at my feet but I have to climb my way up. It's dangerous to dream here, and you don't script your own dreams, the world around you does. Your skills and abilities dictate how far you will go, genetics seems to decide much of this. Society tells you what you should want, and how you must go about acheiving it.
The dreams still exist but behind them is a lining anything but silver. This lining is failure, and fear of it. One of my dreams is to find a soulmate and have a family, but there's always a voice in the back of my head: What if you never find someone? Another is to be successful in my profession, but what if you can't do it? Someday you might run into a wall, something insurmountable but it's too late to turn back... You struggle to find that balance between setting your sights high and setting yourself up for failure.
It would be so nice to be back in that place where dreams couldn't hurt you and you could have as many of them as you wanted. Someone should bottle that feeling up and sell it.