It slaughters my fate line in half. It rips up the promise my grandmother made. I know what I dream of. Dreamt of, as a child. That one dream that can't be, that falls to ashes the moment I start university (maybethatswhyidontwanttostartuniversitymaybethatswhyiamscared), that one dream that was built up by more than a decade of books and stores and daydreams (thatneveramounttoanythingever), and that one dream I’ll never experience beyond my mind. My heart hurts, though I tell myself that I'm being silly (andfenayouneedtostopandgrowup). And it cries for what was never mine in the first place.
I’ve been in a muddle this month (there have been absolutely lovely days. There have. Yet), and my heart is hurting from dreams lost, a realization that I’ll never see another friend again, and a mind-numbing fear that I've just changed my destiny for the worse. And a sinking feeling that I’ll never be good enough.
Change is good. I like change. But what happens when that change appears to wipe away the only dream you've ever had?
But maybe that's the point. For the old to leave, so something new can enter.
"You’re gonna be fine. You’re gonna spend a long time thinking that you won’t be, and then one morning you’ll wake up and you will be. And then, you know, for a while you’ll miss the fact that you’re not, because it almost seems scarier when you are, because at least when you’re not you’ve got something to cling to; and then, when you’ve got over that — then you’re gonna be fine! All right? "
- Tim Bisley
