You remember my dream about the man who was stealing my precious bag along a highway in the dead of night? I am living it everyday. I walk in a daze striving to hold on to my prize. You handed it to me, so precious, so full of promise. I was going to cherish and protect it. But with each step I take, I feel one hand on my throat sucking the breath out of me. The other slowly pries my little treasure from my grasp. I am scared. I am scared.
WAIT!
IT'S MINE! HE GAVE IT TO ME!
But I can't shout it out.
I don't because it's safer to have nothing to fight for, nothing to hold on to, nothing to be responsible for.
It's safer to live in the silence of your dreams, building castles in clouds than on the solidity of chasing dreams, wrestling them down, and turning them into reality.
I don't because I have knitted together a safety net, a substitute of the best.
I can't. I don't. I won't.
Hands wrap themselves around my neck. I can no longer breath.
Help me.
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