So I was talking with a friend over facebook messenger just yesterday. Somehow I brought up my blog, which clearly I don't post on very much. She said I was a good writer. Somehow the conversation turned into how I enjoy writing poetry occasionally.
Then she had a strange request for me that I have never had before, granted I rarely tell people that I have a blog or that I like poetry. She asked me to write a poem right then and there. I said about what and she asked me to write one about anything, so I wrote a quick one about my drive to school:
love
With a little updating from the original, it became what is a simple yet powerful poem. It creates a feeling, a ride. It moves us with it. The topic moved from this lovely oratory on love to how I feel I live in my head. How I don't think that my reality is the same as everyone else's:
it’s fine to live in your head
until it is debilitating
and you find yourself dreaming of things that are impossible
impractical
you can not exist in the realms you have created
you do not want to come to reality
for it stands no chance against what you have made
it can not even exist in the same plane
in can not be in the same existence
because they are that different
this picture perfect
slightly wordy
version of reality
that leaves you wondering
if it’s really worth it.
and you can't
you just can’t decide
if you really want to come out
or if you simply want to hide
screaming out to hear your own voice
just to know that you are still you
and that you are still here
and you find
that no matter what
it doesn’t matter how long you live in there
it just doesn’t matter
because no matter what
you have to leave.
you have to begin to believe
in this world of reality and see
that the world is coming
it is coming at a speed so fast
that you can hardly believe
that it is there
that it is true
but you must see it
for if you do not you will be trapped
you will begin to whither away
to fall and tumble
becoming torn
losing hope
losing joy
you must leave
if you are to survive
you must leave
if you want to be alive
you must dream
if you wish to see the skies
your dreams are what you want them to be
your reality is what you want it to be
the only difference between the two
is what you do.
A sudden darker turn from where we had begun. I felt my dreams falling out of hands as I typed these thoughts that I had thought. My words began to tell a side of me that I wasn't even sure I was aware of. She asked me what my dreams were:
I dream of the places I want to go
the people I want to help
the lives I want to grow
the family I want to meet
the future in my field
the job I will hold dear
the times I choose to hold
and the fears I choose to leave
Not much to wave anything at, but it is a place to start. Dreams are only dreams as long as you allow them to be. She shared her thoughts:
Dreams are what has made the world a better place. Ideas come from them.
Families come from them.
Friends come from them.
Ultimately happiness comes from them.
But having a dream and making it happen is bliss.
Pure joy.
