I’m a dreamer. I daydream and nightdream. I think of possibilities of the future and fantasize about them. I would walk the length of a community college’s gym and think I’d run so fast and sweat so hard on UNC-CH campus. I watched Youtube videos of scientists and imagine myself in a lab day in day out, passing time by looking at samples and analyzing the results.
I have dreams: dreams I dare to act and dreams that scare me away. Dreams that lift me up and dreams that whisper, “you are a useless b*tch.” Dreams that makes me fight against all odd of the present to get there, and dreams that give me excuses to back up.
This time, I dreamed to go home for a year, box myself in 100 square meter apartment with my loving yet sometimes unagreeable parents. I dreamed that in a year, I’ll throw myself in a place far away from all my beloved ones where I know not a soul. I dreamed and dreamed.
And tonight. I just stared at the ceiling. In the dark. Observing the night blending in with moonlight.
Tonight, all I think about is the past. About memories. About the exact moments which inspired my dreams, only now I wish I lived those moments fully.
I’m moving again. My flight is tomorrow at one pm. I have a couple of hours to sleep, and then I’ll continue packing. In the hour I have laid down, in my head there was no peace but snapshots of the past. Of every second that seemingly lasted forever. They were full of life and love and colors.
The transition is always the hardest. It’s the fine line between excitement and fear. It’s the line that separate daydreaming and concerning. If anything, it might come to define a way of life.
I wasn’t ready the first time I left, so I chose a seat in the corner of the first class on a new continent. I chose to not have energy to try hard and to play hard. I chose the many things that took me months and years to take back.
I don’t know if I’m ready right now. I wanted to puke this whole evening because I was so nervous. I have many fears, and all of the sudden they are crawling out of my dreams and present themselves like ghosts in a mansion/haunted house. Yet, I chose this. I chose the very thing I will do tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. I have come to terms with my own wishes and dreams, and with that it became easier for me to fight the ghosts. With that I am bigger than I was.
I don’t know if there will be tears. I think my eyes should water up at some point, but obviously there has been none of those things. Not even when I’m alone. And I know it doesn’t even matter if I cry, because I can’t take back the past once I have left. I can’t amend broken relationships or form new ones when I’m gone. I should leave everything be. The past is sealed, and once I step over the transition line, it is to be left alone forever.