Over the New Year I was writing a introspection but somehow ended up with this. And I guess in essence it sums up what the post would have been about anyway.
I think we all have two types of dreams—the type that starts out when we were young and naive, and were filled with ideals and fantasies; and the type that is a secondary one, layered over the first—a goal or milestone, something realistic, where the world and its harsh realities have taught us boundaries, limits and inhibitions.
I want to learn and change and evolve, and I don't want to lose sight of my first dream and who I set out to be.
But over time, as my second dream grew and grew, I found my first dream diminishing, it had become a nearly transparent thing. How sad would it be to lose the reasons that made me chose my path in the first place? It's such a terrible, miserable thought. In trying to find the child-me that used to daydream and was filled with boundless fearlessness, I decided to start reading fairytales and mangas again, things that inspired me as a kid.
Don't forget that first dream you used to have, don't forget the beauty of that unrealistic and naive ideal. It's fragile and whimsical, something precious, a part of what made us who we are today. Don't let it go.