And as I stand here, daydreaming and staring at my future, there’s something in the distance that catches my eye. There is more to see than just these outlines. Every image that I spot on this skyline is made up of tiny separate parts. And when I focus and look more carefully, I recognize these ...
Not in the past, where mistakes and failures lie in wait to torment you with reminders of where you weren't good enough, of all the ways you failed. And not in the future, where a million fears are ready to pounce and weigh you down in the incessant possibilities of ways in which life can go wrong.
I cannot dream up the way your body will mold into mine or the way your voice will fill every empty piece of me. My imagination can’t go far enough to know what home will smell like, but I know I’ll find it buried in your embrace.
Should one stay ingrained in reality, or should one give oneself up to the arts and make beautiful things for the world to reflect upon? Or is it possible to do both?