Dreams are important roads to have. They lead the way for our tumultuous hearts. When we're young, and overflowing with self importance, we treasure our dreams. When we grow up, proving ourselves takes precedence over believing in ourselves. Thus, the world becomes a place that is encased in plastic. It is centered around survival and vigilance and we bury our dreams. After some years, in a moment of introspection, they are raised from the graveyard that is our mind and are resurrected. We feel them, rough and raw, uncut diamonds, willing to be shown to the world. But we suppress them under our coats over embarrassment and hesitation and forget that the world is begging for the sparkle of originality.
This last year, my bravery has won thin and I have neglected my dreams. I believed that they are the bracelets of youth, and much like the notion of falling in love, overrated. Since I would soon leave my youth, I elected to leave them behind. They took my heart and gave nothing back. Today, I realized that adulthood requires dreams way more than childhood ever did. Yes, we will lose ourselves to the race that is life, we might have to, but our dreams are a bit of our true selves, and holding onto them might just one day save us and save the world too.
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