I was a dream until one day I had my own dreams. My peers thought I’d outshine them; my parents expected my light would embellish them until one day it blemished me. ‘Cause to shine is to build expectations and to build expectations is to be vulnerable. You ascend, albeit you know that the higher one goes, the more bones he breaks each time he falls. You trade your ambitions to build someone else’s, snivel in silence and make endless excuses to defend each catastrophe until one day you find yourself becoming them, exhausted and devastated, on the verge of hitting mediocrity, and questioning why you couldn’t be that anticipated one. All you wonder is if only you could stop that 7-year-old boy from striving those extra hours to top his class, rip apart the diary when he wrote his first story at 11, fasten those lips that whispered in praise of him, burn the books that told a 15-year-old boy that he could be almost anything in this world only if he aspired to. You pray only if you could dissolve into oblivion until one day you get to make a noise and yet remain unexplored.
