I like to tune out the whole world and the voices around me until I've drifted away into a little world of my own. In other words, I love to dream.
Sure, some people like to dream about how they'll look years from now. But I can't picture myself as an adult. Some people may dream about what they'll do in as an adult. But me? I like to dream about the future . . . as in one hundred years from now.
There are some people who lived maybe five hundred years ago, and we still know their names. I want to be one of those people. I wish I had pages for myself in the history books.
But I don't want to do something big and boring. I want to do something extraordinary that people would actually want to read about during their own time. I want to be someone with a name everyone would know someday.
I don't know what special something I want to do though. Maybe I could invent something? But I don't even like inventing. That knocks out one possibility . . .
There are so many possibilities out there. Maybe I don't even want my name to be heard around the world. But do I want to let it fade within the future?
There are so many questions that I could ask and so many answers I'll never get. So many poems I'll read and so many I'll never understand. So many possibilities out there and I'm so unsure of life. Why exactly do I want my name to be known? I can't even answer that myself.
I want to have the best articles in the Times, the ones that stand out the most. The ones people care to compliment on or actually take a few seconds to rate. Oh, there are too many things I want. Too many things you want. So is the only question here what will we actually receive?
But maybe, in the end I'll realize that everything I hoped for was never a dream, but in my grasp of reality.
