It's been a long time since you last heard from me. I'd be lying if I said I think of you often. Sadly, I don't think of you often enough.
I convinced myself I was satisfied with life, that I didn't need you. I talked myself into enjoying things I don't really enjoy, because well, they seemed like noble enough causes. I ignored you. Stifled you. Contained you. Pushed you away. And all the while, you lay dormant inside, waiting for the right moment to set me ablaze.
I couldn't have possibly expected it. In fact, it happened at the most inopportune time. There I was, busy with "living," when I caught a glimpse of someone else embracing you, pursuing you, wooing you in broad daylight. In an instant, I saw my own reflection. I was the jealous lover, overcome by furious rage, acting in child-like desperation. You were the one who got away, the road never travelled, the biggest regret, my one true what if.
What will become of us, dream?
I fear I will never truly have you. Sometimes I fear even the very pursuit of you. You're risky, and I am aging, dream. I am not the youthful girl you once knew and loved. I am not your wild-eyed dreamer who still believes in fairy tales and happy endings and living in the thrill of the moment.
I came after you hard that once. I still remember tasting the sting of disappointment when you eluded me. Led me on and then stopped answering my calls. Broke me.
It took a long time to heal, but I moved on, dream. Picked up the pieces, glued them back together and told myself I'd never be that naive again. I ran. Safety embraced me, promised not to hurt me. I wasn't in love, but what did that matter? Safety was consistent and real and solid ground for my feet to stand. Safety was my best friend. And Safety introduced me to Responsibility.
I was content with my new life and what little it had to offer me.
Until I saw you that day. And all the feelings came back. That familiar burning in my belly came back. The promise of adventure. The beckoning of the great unknown.
I fear that our chance has passed, dream. I may never know you, hold you, find you.
My courage is so fragile, and my fight is all but gone.
I've become so accustomed to tuning you out, smothering your voice, and yet sometimes, like today, I can hear you faintly whisper, just barely calling me.
What will become of us dream? I do not know. I cannot know. But oh, how I long to know.
Until we meet again,
A Recovering Dreamer