When I was young, I remember being happy that I had a dream. And that I had an idea of what I could have been when I grew up. I admit, I was crazy, and I thought everyone else was crazier. Perhaps I was mean, but I was crazy, I was sure of myself…but now, I’ve reached all of what I ever thought was enough to make me happy. Yet here I am, I find myself stuck in the same situation where life seems to be telling me, I need to do more. I probably forgot somewhere along the way, that so much of my dreams, were mostly the hardships and pain, but I remembered the silver linings. I tried over and over again to never repeat the same mistakes, but I just discovered new ways to mess up. Yet that doesn’t bother me. I only long for that exuberance and thrill of waiting for an invisible, shrouded moment with infinite hope and overflowing joy. That was me once, and this will be me once too.