Posted in Musings, Post a Day

Pursue

On yesterday, I shared my grief at the loss of something that I really wanted. To say that I was devastated would be like saying the Amazon is a bubbling brook or the Pacific Ocean is a teardrop.  I was severely more than just devastated.  It felt as if the world continued to move and I was forced to stand still on that crumbling pillar I’d built. I had lived in a dream for a little over a week. Anticipating the joys and fulfillment promised to me. Desiring to work hard and let my light shine. It was a dream. A dream that I pursued with the gusto of a starved maniac. Today is Day 2 and I find myself trying to muster up the desire to pursue again. Why? Because I am a hopeless and excitable glutton for happy beginnings and endings. I know that everything will not be a success and that I will fail countless times. Still, I cannot deny myself the chance to dream and pursue those dreams. A dreamer, I am as curious as a child left to wander a toy store inside a candy shoppe. My mind gives life to a thought that grows and expands beyond celestial entities. And unless I check myself with the reality, I will dangerously float in mid-air. I am that child who wants to touch and taste it all. Just like that child, nothing is off-limits to me, the dreamer. Me, the pursuer always looking distracted by the things that I want. That pin tip hope grows within me and I find myself wanting to be more and do more. I am hopeless, but I do not regret it. Finding things to hope for and look forward to… that gives me reasons to move forward. To pursue is to continue. To continue is to live life with a passion that heals and hurts. If I’m not pursuing a dream., I am not standing still complacent in where I am. I am moving backwards and becoming less of who I intend to be. To be honest, what is life if is isn’t full of those sand grains of hope that cause us to pursue our dreams?

Pursue

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Life’s Mixtape: The B Side

250px-Tdkc60cassette.jpgI am a dreamer. My memories are like a cassette tape. LIFE’S MIXTAPE. Side A being the truth, and Side B being the dream. Eventually, the tape gets worn and I can’t tell the difference between the sides. I no longer mind the warping tune that emits from the dream. I accept my ability to create it as a form of genius. The dream will become the truth as I become a better me. No more sides. No regrets. Just a mixtape with my windows down.

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