Crushing childhood dreams.

We all have that one dream.
To everyone else it's foolish.
Logically, it doesn't matter,
and you know that.
But you want it more than anything.
They don't understand,
and they never, ever can,
because you simply do not know why.
But their judgments don't matter.
At least not to you.

Something else gets stuck in the gears.

Time.
Waiting.
Afraid of going too fast.
Afraid of taking that next step
when you know you're going too slow
and you know it's now or never.
Wasting
time.

Until it's too late.
The chance has come and gone,
and you're left alone,
gazing hollowly at your backup plans
written in smeared yellow chalk
in your laziest, most careless handwriting
on the blackboard before you.

Time.
You wish you could go back.
You wish you could go forward
to an age when you can look back on your youth
with a reminiscent smile.
But you must trudge on at this same agonizing pace,
and also plummet through it, recalling only a blur.

Time is key.
There's a lock I'll never open.

Eventually you give up on your naive childhood dream.
You had your shot and you blew it.
Now it's time to make the most of what's left.

But what does that mean?
Will you find that it's better this way after all?
Will you find that it would never have mattered?
Or will you wake every morning wishing you had made it happen when it still could?

In any case, will some part of that dream be with you always,
forever taunting your heart, a recurring reminder, the same every time:
"It might have been..."
?
September 20th, 2010 at 02:16am