My dreams are far fetched at best. Hopeless at worst.
To dream of that which is near an equivalent to unreachable, is to accept your destiny of future pain and disappointment.
But if your destiny is certain failure, should one still continue on the path fate has paved out in front of you?
Or should someone forge their own path, fighting tooth and nail against all demons of the unfamiliar place which is our own free will?
I've been set up to fail. Promised a hearty defeat, and denied a worthy battle.
Of all the passions, and all the worthy pursuits, my happiness and singular desire must lie in one in which I am barely mediocre.
Shall I blame fate, or a human fetish for pain? The two seem to become intertwined.
Childish wishes for fame, the shared first dream of applauding audiences, perfect happiness, it almost seemed plausible in innocence.
The only setback is finally having to grow up. In what seems like a singular day, it comes to fruition that you in all probability will never gain fame.
Never fortune.
Never your childhood desires.
Without the lonely dream I have, hope for all that is to come would be lost in me.
So I won't let myself grow up, not to entirety.
I will accept my inherent, looming pain.
I will forge my dreaded path against the arms of fate.
I will fight my glorious battle, opposing all forces, with but a toothpick.
I will not leave behind my doomed passion.
I will not grow up. I will keep dreaming, my hopeless dream...
Until I come to the end of my path.......
