I have big dreams, dreams that seem impossible.
there were parts of my life where i believed I could never reach them.
I kept dragging every piece of myself, as if it were nothing compared towho I could become, every piece where the truth lives.
I thought having big dreams would make me whole. But all it did was make me realize that some dreams end anywy, like an exam on a random wednesday. finished or unfinished, it eventually ends.
Still, i never left myself unsettled. I kept every failure like a trophy, proof that I tried, or maybe proof that I failed.
I have carried oceans of disappointment from people who believed in me.
i have worn too many shoes just to understand everyone around me,
losing my direction so often that I forget where I once stood.
The reality of life becomes a burden when I choose not to give up,
stretching myself into versions that might finally work.
I have learned just enough to seem ‘able,’ to look capable.
Every attempt feels like an empty bookshelf filled with bookmarked pages, none of them finished.
I want to exist. To be there.
I wanted to prove something.
But all it left me with was a void of questions,
“who am I, exactly?”
Nothing feels stranger than a man trying to find himself.
I used to hope that one day I would find my seat,
an empty chair with my name on it.
That maybe, somewhere, someone would leave a space for me in their life.
I wanted to be recognized. I wanted to be someone worth remembering,
a reminder of something good in someone else’s life.
But I realized I did exist or that exists, just not in the way I hoped.
On random days, I feel motivated, convinced that the plans I laid out will work.
I fight silent battles in my head, rearranging hours just to chase what I call an “ideal life,”
though I am not even sure what it truly means.
Every failure carves itself into my bones.
Every unfinished plan burns away like it was never there.
I am not particularly good, nor entirely bad at anything,
just standing in the middle, trying to balance life,
tired of explaining why I still have not figured it out.
Trying to build every dream, trying tobe everywhere at once,
has stripped me down until there is almost nothing left.
just footsteps fading into a storm,
a path marked by untied laces and missteps,
with no clear direction. just motion.
I placed myself in spaces where I only existed when I felt wanted,
until I forgot what I truly loved,
just to feel accepted, just to feel found.
I built endless versions of lies to keep people away
from my quiet disappointments,
the disapproval, the parts of me that never felt enough.
Maybe life has its own way of making things look broken
while still appearingwhole.
I hope that someday, I will feel less like a burden.
Maybe one day, life will look at me and say,
“this is your moment, live it well.”
I hope life reminds me that I am not done yet,
that I still have dreams to chase,
and that I have not truly failed them.
That maybe my dreams were never too big,
just waiting for their time to be mine.
I made a promise to myself…
and it was never too much. It’ll soon be mine.
