I had dreams of squatting, of hopping trains, of living off what i could steal or beg from people, or find in dumpsters. I had dreams of freedom and a life to myself and a life on my own. I had dreams of being an artist. Dreams of creating something that was more than myself. Something to be admired. I had dreams of letting go of my ego. Of being enlightened. Of a harmony with life. I had dreams of being happy. Of remembering how to smile more than twice a day. Of seeing things in a positive way. I had dreams of love. Dreams of kissing one person to sleep. Of holding them forever. I had dreams of doing more than just surviving. Dreams of a life with not so much worry. Of just a little less unstable.
All dreams die. Nothing works out like they should. I wish someone had told me that 5 years ago.
All dreams die. Nothing works out like they should. I wish someone had told me that 5 years ago.
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"if you told me all this when i was 15 i never would have believed it"
i'm sure he wouldn't listen up anyhow,
he'd say 'i knew you when you used to matter'
but i've known him since- he wasn't so easily flattered."