And what do you do with the carcass of a withered dream? I can't simply bury it. No, I've grown far too attached to it over these long years. I raised it since it was merely a seed of inspiration...I watched it grow, as I grew. From seed to beautiful, nearly-tangible fantasy, obsession. I believe my tendencies sucked the life out of it - maybe I should brush up on my knowledge of the manual on how to grow dreams properly? Or maybe I should just figure out what the hell I am first. How do I expect to figure out who I want to be in the future, where I want to go, what I want to achieve, when I don't even know how define my desires now? I guess in the meantime, I will distract myself by planting new seeds. It has always been all but too easy for me to start something. The difficulty lies in following through. Inspiration radiates from all, ripe for the picking, whereas nourishment and growth takes years, sometimes a lifetime to give birth. Why bother, when success is rarely guaranteed?
Over these many years of my life, I have learned to be complacent in this false reality that I have built for myself, plucking the fruit of inspiration around me and laying the seeds behind me, again and again forgetting to carry them along with me as I trek through this journey of life alone. The mere satisfaction I get from depositing each seed keeps me more than satisfied, adding more cement and thick bricks to my personal domain that hides me from this world. One by one, I plant each seed behind me, like cookie crumbs reminding me that the life that I long for is "this way." But day after day, promising myself again and again that I will return, I take the path "that way." Confrontation with these angry, neglected seeds will only tear away at my fantasy, one brick at a time, exposing me to the ravenous world that longs to ensnare my sanity. No. No, no no noooo. I am perfectly comfortable this way. For I am safe from the world, and my mind is ignorant to its cruelty....Right?
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