Life is but a dream.

Some days, like today, make me think that what I’m living currently just can’t actually be my life. I’m not sure what it is about days like these (probably my state of sin or state of grace) that makes me ultra reflective about the life I have lived, super-conscious of the life I am living, and really afraid of the life I might lead; but I do know that today, and all of these days past and future, makes me wishful for a state of coma. Like, ‘It’s alright. Any second now I’ll wake up and this regretful life would have been a hopeless dream, but only a dream.’

Then, kid you not, I close my eyes and imagine what it would be like to wake up. I’m sure most coma patients are not excited when they hear they’ve missed out on days, months, or years of their lives, but I imagine the relief I would feel. And then, in anticipation of this relief and with a little heavier of breathing, I open my eyes. There I am.

In my room, in my car gazing up at the stars, on a swing in the park. I’m alive. This is real. My life, as it is.

I have to say this (because everyone feels they must when pouring out their thoughts) I know there is real suffering in the world, I’m not blind to it. In fact the little of the old me that still exists is dying to do something about it. I know I am blessed to be even where I am now with a home, loving parents, and an able body. I know that not everyone has this.

Maybe in my last blog and perhaps the one before that, I said this would take on a more hopeful direction. It would be more about big dreams, and less about the pessimistic realities of life. Well, I changed my mind. I’m not going to label this as a blog for school, a blog for big dreams, a blog on how to pursue those dreams. I will simply let it be what it is.

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