Letter To Thee

What has thou become? A man or still a boy? In two years, the consistent need for recognition and acceptance of thou’s life choices has made you idle. Yet, not due to these choices has thou become something. Instead, listening to that of others shaped what thine has transformed into. Not a beautiful butterfly. A cocoon. Safe inside a shell. Thick as iron, tough as diamonds. Safe inside the walls of comfort, thy does not need to achieve thine dreams. For the dreams lie in the heart, and without dreams, would thy have a heart? A warm, beating organ. The source of life. The controller of emotion for decision. Yet, the brain intervenes with its pragmatic explanations, and cold realities.

Follow thy heart, and it shall lead thy to splendor they said. Yet, thou’s desire and desperate seek for admiration, for appreciation, for favorable reception transformed thy plans turned asunder; into the depths of dreams ideas went, locked inside the cerebellum. Can thou live without these dreams? Can thy escape the realities, the walls manifested within thyself, and live these dreams? For what is worth to have dreams and not live them?

Thy can not have their cake and eat it to. For once a dream is fulfilled, the dream no longer exists. A past reality. A desire so desired, yet upon its completion the sense of satisfaction of completion is lackluster. For months or years or a lifetime built up to the moment, yet, travels with the pace of time. A task completed, not forgotten, but no longer an attainable dream. A leaf in the wind.

Dost not be afraid of turbulence. Dost embrace it. Chaos shan’t be a mortal enemy, yet something to hold dear. Close, but not far. For from the calamity of change comes introspection, growth, and change. Be the change you wish to see, of thyself, and thy world.

Stay humble. Work hard. Be kind.



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