Dreaming

And as she soars to new heights, I flounder on the ground gasping for air desperately trying to get a grip on my life and where it is going. It’s interesting how life works out this way, huh? One second you’re in first grade being asked what you want to be when you grow up and the next moment you’re an eighteen year old girl who is forced to decide who she wants to be for the rest of her life. And quite honestly, I have no idea. In fact, I’ve never had a single clue what I want to be. I suppose I have been shaped all of my life to do some well-meaning job that greatly benefits society, but more likely I was processed, like many other American children, to do a meaningless nine to five job and earn just enough to pay my bills. That is quite a terrifying thing to me, because despite the fact that I never had a dream job in mind as a kid, I have always been a dreamer. My unsettled heart has always bounded from desire to desire and it is a heartbreaking feeling to realize that one is simply mediocre. Through the years we have had media shove down our throats mantras of, “If you can dream it, you can do it” and other things of that nature. While Disney continues to inspire us to keep dreaming, it also contains the same voice that society has, as it quietly whispers that you should give up. Shockingly as much as society tells me to stop dreaming, as much as it tells us to stop dreaming, I believe that it is human nature that we just simply cannot stop. Indeed, some of the dreams turn to nightmares, but nevertheless envisioning a different life will be an inevitable force for the human race to endure. Because even as much as I tell myself that I have, in fact, given up, I see instances of how blatantly wrong I truly am. I find that I still sing in the shower, correction: perform in the shower, and I shamelessly do crazy things when no one is looking. I still wish on eyelashes and birthday candles and I still sing into a hairbrush as I do my hair. All of which indicate that although I tell myself I have given up, and although I feel like I have indeed given up, I have not in fact given up hope. I still dream, and I still hope. And even though I want to give in to my self-loathing a small part of me will only allow me to indulge, never fully give in. And sadly I will never be able to kill the part of me that is human and still loves to dream. And perhaps there lies the beauty in living.

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