to my dreams.

i know exactly who you are. you're a girl with a guitar on her lap at an open mic, singing to a crowd of adoring fans. you're a doctor in a veterinarian's office, telling a little boy his dog is doing just fine. you're a clown on a unicycle, juggling oranges and apples. you're an author, signing copies of your fifteenth best seller. you're an artist who finally finished publishing a children's book.

you're not shy or awkward, but bold when you have to deal with other people. you're amusing. you're sarcastic, witty and clever enough to disguise it. you're holding a bag full of orange skittles. you're sitting in a bar. you're climbing a tree. you're being yourself and being okay with it. because you're amazing, wonderful and happy.

it's a shame that you're only a figment of my imagination. that you're something that only becomes real when reality becomes intangible. it's even sadder that maybe some day, bits and pieces of you will become real, but you will never be all the things you want to be. is it wrong of me to limit you like this? perhaps. but it's safer than clinging to you until you vanish some other way.

sometimes you hide from me when i close my eyes. is it because i'm doubtful? or because you're unsure like me? i don't always understand you, or believe in you, but i couldn't live without you. you keep me going, you drive me on. you make me clench my jaw and keep trying because i want you to be real. i want to see you in the mirror one day. until then, anyway, stay the way you are. who knows? maybe i'll run away and join the circus or switch majors again. but no matter what, i'll do my best to make you- as much of you as i can- real.


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