Disclaimer: This blog post seriously sucks and is the most cliche thing that I’ve ever actually written down.
I used to not be a dreamer. Really. I have always been the practical one. The one who thought that being realistic and practical was the only way to go through life, because dreaming big was kind of just a waste of time. I’m not sure why I felt this way exactly. I think it started pretty young. I used to tell my mom that I wasn’t going to play make believe because I knew it wasn’t real. I didn’t play with dolls or things like that, because I literally hated pretending that inanimate objects were real. So, I think that’s kind of where it started, and I guess that mentality just stuck with me. In high school, when my best friend would tell me another one of her ridiculous big plans for the future, as far away as 50 years or as close as the coming weekend, I would always have a more practical solution. She would always tell me that I was negative, but I thought that I was just being “realistic.” When I look back on all of that now, it makes me kind of sad. I can’t believe I wasted that much of my life thinking that dreaming was a waste of time. Don’t get me wrong. I had dreams…kind of. I told people in 5th grade that I would be on MTV someday, because I legitimately wanted to be Christina Aguilera. I think that was more of me being a conceited diva than a dreamer, but whatever, at least it was something. 5th grade was rough.
Anyways, what I’m trying to say is: I can’t believe I lived so much of my life not thinking about all of the possibilities that life could have in store for me. I don’t know what I was doing. Not really thinking at all, I guess. I wasn’t allowing myself to think outside the box or be curious or really anything. I was just already deciding to settle for the life that I thought I was supposed to live, or the life that I thought people wanted me to live. To be honest, I’m over it. Well, I’ve been over it for awhile now. I basically just realized that I needed to believe in and be hopeful about something. I really do have huge dreams, and pretending like I didn’t was really getting old. Besides, can you imagine a life without dreams? Waking up in the morning, and having nothing to work toward or to look forward to? Honestly, it doesn’t even matter what the dreams are, as long as they matter to you. I just can’t handle seeing people who are miserable because they never took the time to imagine what they wanted their lives to be and go after it. Sometimes, things come up and it makes it harder, which is understandable…but even if you at least try to follow your dreams, you can say that you tried instead of always wondering what could have been. I just want to live. I don’t want to have to wonder what could have been if I actually would have tried. I’m just going to go for it.