You have a dream (or have had one at least while growing up).
You work for it. You enjoy the journey too, and reach the dream (or almost).
First time, you fail. It isn’t your fault. Some things went against you. You are still devastated (it’s normal; it was after all YOUR dream; who if not you would care for it?)
You let it sink in. But not defeat you (yet). You try again. You enjoy the journey again (not as much as before, but still, you did). You reach that dream (almost; it was just a whisker away). Again, you are devastated (still normal, not to worry).
The cycle repeats. You know where you went wrong. You try again, and still find that one obstacle stopping your path. You know what that obstacle is too. Sometimes family, sometimes choices; but mostly it is self doubt. You’ve tried so much without success; you begin to doubt that you’ll get there. You begin to question if dreams are worth having, believing in. You were in the mire before, now a thick mist of self doubt appears. You can’t even see where you’re headed (it’s true; starting from the beginning each time has affected your mindset now even to an extent that you forget or dismiss the fact that it was just a step that claimed your dream, not the journey).
Love comes in your state of self-neglect. It gives you hope (or tries to). You know its words are true (you believe it, but you spoof yourself that you don’t, that it’s a hoax). You avoid it to an extent, then begin to con that love that you do believe it (you know you don’t; you’re just pretending so the power of love will reduce). They say love is blind, so it believes in you. It eases its hold to an extent. (You breathe, but ask yourself this, what was suffocating you in the first place, the love or the self doubt? Which would you rather have suffocating you?)
You say the dream has died. The person who dreamed it has died too (neither has, but again, you’ve become so adept at spoofing yourself that you tell it like it’s true). You believe in it so much that you can’t accept anything that goes against that mask. Today, hopes and desire still surround you but that devastation is so much now that you cannot see it (or even if you do, you think you don’t want to). You say your life is worthless and you want to die (you begin to dream of dying; even God doesn’t know why).
Then you want to find yourself again (knowing well that you lost yourself in the first place). You begin to look for what you want. You’ll find it was always nearby and you’ll let it all swim in your eyes once more. You’ll smile (with some truth in it), you’ll dream (with some belief in it), you’ll love (knowing heartbreak can still be just around the corner). And you will say “I love my life”.
But the past has still not become history. The present is there to keep you calm and looking at the future. Yet it hasn’t erased your fear completely. That’s because you have to do that. So ask yourself this:
How can present render an impact on the future if you cannot eject what is past to you?
Food for thought, or a sour dose of syrup? That’s up to you too…
From the pen of