Day Five: Your Dreams

Dear you, the impossible,

Ever since as young as I can remember, I've only wanted to be two things in life. The first, everyone knows, is to be a writer. To be able to write whenever I want, whatever I want, whenever and however. I knew this since I picked up to read my first proper book, which was probably an Enid Blyton one. I fell in love with words. Like how, one could put them together and construct sentences so.. exquisitely, and in ways that even one word could convey a whole paragraph's worth of expression. Through my eyes, English is amazing.

The second is you (and what almost everyone doesn't know), my ultimate want, my love, my dream -- and sadly, the unachievable. Or so I think. It's been like a secret dream of mine for too many a year to count and only few know about it. I think it's mostly cause, when I've mentioned it to the few, all I get back is... well, what can only be translated as, "Meh." And especially when it's parents who give you the same kind of answer, it just makes me feel that it's all the more improbable and that it's like the same as saying "Mummy, I want to be a princess when I grow up."

I can only live through the days count the if's.

If only I had somewhere I could improve and enhance whatever I have now.. somewhere I could actually learn MORE or even just, learn.

If only I wasn't born here, in a place lacking of opportunities for what I want.

If only I hadn't stopped.

If only if only if only...

Ah well, I can only hope to continue doing what I do and maybe, just maybe, even in some small way, one day my dream can take flight.