I stopped somewhere in junior high.
Back when my dreams
still felt like they belonged to me.
But none of them came true.
And somewhere in that disappointment,
I decided:

Maybe it’s better not to dream at all.

So I walked.
Not toward anything, just away.
I kept moving, chasing chances
because they were there.
Not because I wanted them.

And somehow,
I got good at this.
Good at pretending movement means direction.

Even now,
I don’t have a dream.
I don’t know where I’m going.
And every time someone talks about their dreams,
I feel the silence crawl a little louder in me.

What have I gained?
Flexibility.
Adaptability.
Survival.

Is it wrong not to dream?
Is it wrong to dream?

Good or bad,
those are words society defines.

But if society decides I’m bad,
what then?
What happens
if I stop listening to the world
and start listening to myself?

Would that make everything I’ve done
meaningless...
or finally mine?

-Ikkel Y-