Be afraid of never achieving it.
I wake up every morning, my chocolate brown eyes dreaming wide open. As my vision focuses on the light seeping from between the blinds, I think about the person I aspire to be years from now. I dream of living in an apartment devoid of furniture with a French window overlooking the rolling sea. I imagine sitting on the wooden ledge, gazing longing out of its threshold and down at the swarm of people buzzing with vibrant life. I can feel the soft caress of the breeze against my pallid face, a relief from the intense wave of heat that came from the early day sun. I imagine myself with a guitar in hand, my fingers carelessly strumming the strings with promise tingling at their tips. I dream about painting all day until my arms are burning with lactic acid, and reading all night until my eyes close like the front cover of the book in my hands...
And that's it. That's where my dream is left open-ended. Nothing about it indicates who I want to be years from now or the occupation I will pursue. None of it has images of my lover lying in bed beside or me running out of the front door in a rush of panic.
The truth is, I don't know what I want to be or who I want to be with, but I do know that I aspire to be happy. To live in the unceremonious days of my youth. What do I know of who I should be? I can make up a thousand identities and end up being the dreamer, the actress and the romantic rolled up into one body.
I will be realistic with myself. I can get lost in my dreams. So lost that reality hurts when it hits you on the side of the head. But I also know that dreaming is nothing if no action is put into it.
I am going to be happy.
May my life be a serendipitous collision of events and destiny, and lead me to the apartment overlooking the sea.