isn’t it sad that as adults we have to learn how to dream again?
when do we lose our innocence and start abandoning hope?
when does it happen, exactly?
is it between 9 and 12? between fairy tales and the first heartbreak? between sleepovers and school dances held in empty gymnasiums that always felt so packed and scary back then?
when do we tell ourselves to buckle up, to settle down? When do we convince ourselves that misery is just yet another part of life?
when do we switch the “someday I will change the world” for “I just can’t.”?
when the proverbial old shoe drop, does it fall on our heads?
WHY HAVE WE FORGOTTEN HOW TO DREAM?
and why do we keep acting as if love isn’t enough, as if love is an out of this world experience reserved for a few lucky ones, but certainly not us?
why do we grow up and suddenly stop seeing our own light and recognizing our divine and start coveting instead the tiny spark we find in others?
somewhere between the years, between then and now, we abandon our dreams like marbles, letting them roll away as they please.
Some even leave them locked up tight in a drawer in the basement of a home they plan never to return to again.
out of sight, out of mind.
But why do we also forget of all the dreams come true? and when we start losing faith, is that also when we begin to tell ourselves that we’re all alone?
the world needs dreamers.
the world needs those who can find light in its absence, those who see white in black, those who still wish upon a falling start;
the world needs for more of the poor to become rich so that money can turn gratefulness into our currency, peace into the spoken language, and love the only truth we seek.
Do not let anyone convince you that every single desire in your heart cannot be met.
You can have it all.
All you need to do is teach yourself to dream again.