The thing I hate about wanting things is that we get so used to the feeling. Especially as the longer we go on wanting these yearnings or dreams we unconsciously become content with the fact that some of them will remain ethereal.
But the moment a long relegated dream is given a moment, even by accident, to gain shape again; a chance to once more play vividly in your foremost thoughts; to just as quickly have it robbed from you... it's quite possibly one of the most sobering, disheartening and painful experiences to go through.
I'd estimate I've felt that 6 times so far in my adult life. The last being tonight. It was still somehow a happy hurt. But each time it happens I feel like I become a little less of an optimist. Not towards friends, but myself. I'll always believe those I love are capable of anything their hearts dare them to try their hand at.
I'll be capable of a lot. Just not anything anymore.
I hate realists...
- Sevy
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