Shut Up and Listen

Insomniacs

Hope has become an excuse for those not willing to work hard for the miracle. So many times we've been told, "it isn't possible" or, "You're more likely to fail than to succeed, so just give up." They're right. We are more likely to fail than to succeed, but why should that stop us from living on a star that burns bright the way we do when we dream? They say dreaming is for the sleep, but what happened to "daydreaming" and what happened to these who dreamed so frequently, they couldn't decipher their dreams from reality? Time took away the moments when dreams mattered.

Children where insomniacs awake with brains full of wonder and artistry, painting red violets and blue roses onto the white walls of childhood. But the gang of society took it as a threat and shot bullets of reality through the innocence of adolescence, killing off every hope a child once had. So we tell ghost stories not realizing one day we ourselves would be ghosts haunting the darkened road of our pasts, wondering about the "what-ifs". "What if I hadn't lost my child to cancer?" "What if I had told him I loved him?" "What if I stayed in high school?" We'd ponder over our questions, trying to analyze every bit of regret that jagged our encroached road, leaving scars as memories of the things we had never done.

Suddenly, at some point, we stop dreaming and apprehend that our lives are too short to waste on silly childhood antiques. So while starring into the eye of our younger selves, we make them disappear and dismiss the star that once shined brightly for us.

But there are those- the rebels-that still continuously entangle dreams and reality, combining both definitions and creating a new one: the ability to dream out of sleep and pull the drawings off our white walls, giving it its lively features and setting it free. We were like children still learning to walk, because if we fell, we'd tell each other, "It's okay. Just get back up and try again." We had knowledge of failure, but we believed in success. So while other's colors faded into the dullness of reality, we brightened our reds and oranges, charging toward the blazing blue flames that floated in the sky above us.

Those who are orthodox follow the laws of society, no dents or bends in their line of conformity. Although we mavericks believe in the cruelty of the world, you-as a conformist- made it your profession to segregate Dreams and Reality, making the cruelty of the world seem more like drizzle and less like a hurricane.