Dreams We Carry

As a kid, I imagined my future self with the grandiosity of a thousand dreams. Each morning, I’d wake up and switch careers like hats in a dress-up box—one day a firefighter, the next an astronaut, maybe even a philosopher who could unravel the mysteries of life by lunchtime. I’d think about how I’d conquer the world, my feet barely touching the ground as I ran after every possibility.

Sitting in my dingy office, surrounded by emptiness and crumpled pages, I realize something profound. The secret is not in growing up, fitting into one mold, but in carrying forward the thousand dreams. To never lose that sparkle of possibility, that inherent belief that we can be so many things. Damn it—embrace the chaos, drink a little too much, and write like nobody gives a damn.

When I grow up—if I grow up—I hope it’s at the very end, when the tallying of roles and achievements no longer matters. Then, I can look behind and see that life wasn’t about ticking off boxes on a checklist but about the richness of experiences, the pursuit of passions, and the joy of simply living.

Maybe growing up isn’t about settling into one identity. Perhaps it’s about embracing the journey, knowing that we are ever-changing, ever-evolving. The magic lies in living with childlike wonder, even as we navigate the responsibilities of adulthood.

So, here’s to living a life where dreams aren’t abandoned but cherished, where every hat from the dress-up box is worn with pride, if only for a moment. And when the time comes to grow up, may it be with a heart filled with fulfilled dreams.

And maybe, just maybe, the world will make sense. Or it won’t.