I have come to realise that sometime dreams we have are not realistic.  Wants, desires, hopes...they are all well and good, but that doesn't mean they'll happen.  And when your life involves more than just you, well...who knows what the chances are for your secret dreams to actually happen.

And...I guess that's okay.
But as with any secret hope we grasp tightly within our metaphorical fists, sometimes thing are hard to let go of.
There's a grieving process.
And, like most cases with grief, only time can truly [mostly] heal the wounds created from said grief.

I realised some things today.
In thinking, and processing, about life.
Realising that some things are not likely to happen.  For one reason or another.
Maybe even shouldn't happen.

And I cried.
Because in that moment of clarity, my heart broke.
And dreams I was secretly harbouring, were finally found, and imprisoned in the land of "unrealistic."



I don't like days like today.