The Lost Writings

September 15, 2008 – Surfer’s Paradise, Gold Coast, Australia

I want a dream. I want a reckless desire to do something radically out of the ordinary. I’ve never stuck with a dream for very long. It has always been, sooner or later, forfeited in favor of a reality. My head in the clouds with 2 feet firmly planted on the ground. Hope and I have never gotten along. We are fair-weather friends at best, coexisting when it’s easy; no sooner the tumult of emotion comes and we throw each other to the wolves. I cannot hold onto it and it cannot carry me. We must part ways.

I wish it was different. I wish I could live in the hopeful expectation of future desires, but I can’t. My 2 firmly planted feet won’t allow me to fly. I’m stuck between knowing and hoping; between the promise of the freedom and the reality of the chains. And when my dreams fade, it is because I let them go, like a yellow balloon from a child’s hand floating up and up into a cloudless sky.