Where Did The Dreamer Go?

I do it for the child in me.
That secret spot.
Where nobody went.
Climbing trees.
Being kids.
Freedom.
It's a magical thing,
when you underestimate it.
Grass clippings become things.
Blood shot eyes filled with chlorine.
But we played.
We were only kids.
Not a care in the world.
Maybe thats the secret.
Those were the days.
Forts?
Shall we...
Bedding is off limits.
Pull table chairs from kitchen table.
When you were free,
To be a child.
Then you get older.
Wiser.
Growth is one thing,
Progress is another.
But to be a child,
Or to know better.

Maybe it's Me.

I sometimes have fear that it will all go away.  That every step I have taken will magically disappear overnight like ripples in a pond.  That the thing I have worked so hard for will be lost in a moment. I always fear in something that perhaps doesn't exist.  Fear governs us all is not just within myself.  I wonder a lot of things.  What would happen if I woke up and it was over, is it ever really over?  I stood on what felt like the edge of the world and declared to the world I was ready, but was I? Neivness is crucial because if we knew everything what would be the fun?  Is this really fun though? The struggle, if it was supposed to be why does it seem so fragile?  The questions flood my mind like a river with no dam. I always question, I always ask why.  The discontent I always feel has helped me but could Manhattan be slowly slipping away from my grip.  When this lease goes up will it find me again? Did I ever have it?

I wonder sometimes if I loved it more then it loved me.  You must be careful what you wish for.  I wake up sometimes in the middle of the night, look around my room and feel content with my desicion.  Although I'm never content with where I am at.  Like a shadow, most days I wonder if this is it.  Have I reached my point? Did I do everything and could I go away? I guess that's the thing about dreams.  It takes a life of their own, exceeding expectations you never knew and taking you on a ride you didn't foresee.   With your original idea in mind, life happens and you find yourself analyzing if people understand it or if it fully was brought to life the way in which you saw it.

What's there to be afraid of?  I know this life is short and I know you only live it once, this fact doesn't scare me.  Leaving New York scares me.  But why? As if I couldn't do this anywhere else or perhaps I wouldn't be pushed the way in which Gotham does.  It will peel you out of your skin.  It's ruthless even if you start out nice.   To what extent do you need a city to capture your dream? When is it time to go? Most people don't make it a year, I'm almost on 3.  Maybe it's not even New York, maybe it's me.

Fighting for a dream ain't easy, but every fail and every tear has been worth it.   New York brought out the fighter in me.  Makes you realize why you do certaint things.  When it comes to your life, you have to decide, once you do the path is then put in place.  New York taught me that, we are all just people that have an idea.  That thought certain things and get to see it unfold in front of us.  That's a life worth living no matter where you live.

Say Fu💨k It.

I know that when you read this,

It will find you well.

The message, my dear.

Is deeper than the sky.

When you look up there's holes.

We call them stars.

My dear, listen.

I have seen you grow.

Seen you believe.

It's madness I tell you,

No matter how you cut it.

But if you don't at least try.

You might as well say "fuck it"