Nightmare
He could vaguely remember when he used to dream.
He had goals. And no matter how people told them he’d never achieve those dreams, he never cared. Somehow what people thought never seemed to matter. And somehow he never bothered about the end result. He just wanted to feel proud of himself for actually trying. That was all that mattered to him.
And yet things seemed to have changed. It now mattered whether or not his dreams were realistic. It now mattered whether or not others approved of it. It now mattered whether or not he could eventually achieve those dreams.
To put it nicely, he didn’t want to waste time on unrealistic dreams. To put it crudely, he was afraid of falling. But after all, who wouldn’t? It would be painful to fall.
But he wasn’t afraid before.
And he never seemed to figure out what brought about that change.
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