Thursday, July 26, 2007

Dreams are for kids: Confessions of a Realist, maybe

Listening to: 'Hey There Delilah' by Plain White T's [All That We Needed]

When you were little, you dreamt you'd be superwoman. You'd graduate at the top of your class, get the most amazing job ever, marry the most amazing guy ever, have the most wonderful kids (three: girl, boy, girl) and pets (two dogs: most probably Labradors) anyone could wish for. Your family would be nearby, and they would be proud. You'd be popular, and all your friends would be sincere. You'd be beautiful and your house would be heavenly.

And then your grandmother died. You failed a paper at school. You started getting pimples. The first guy you liked found out, and laughed at you. You found out one of your friends wasn't really a friend at all. But hey, you were still young, everything would be fine.

Years later, you've sorted some of your issues out. Your parents miles away, but they are proud. You don't expect your grandparents to live forever. You're managing OK (read: hanging on for dear life) at university. You have a few amazing friends. But you still have pimples, and now you realise how different your body looks to everyone else's, and you wonder if you're a freak. You're still waiting for some guy - any guy - to like you. You wonder what'll happen if you never get married. You wonder what'll happen if you can't have kids. House prices are so high that when the time comes, you'll probably have to rent a flat in the dodgy part of town.

Those dreams you had when you were younger are all but shattered. Your imperfections have ruined your perfect future. If this is what it's like to be mature, then dreams are definitely for kids.

1 comment:

Speak now, or forever hold your peace (well not really)!