I have a secret.
I have a dream.
I've had a dream for awhile, not really a dream until now. More of a...moment in passing, a fleeting "what if?" moment. I finally reflected on how this passing thought makes me feel inside. Each time unrecognized, but finally it sprang into clarity a few moments ago...
I would like to write a book someday. I've thought about it. In college years ago, most of my free units were English or Lit classes. I read all the time. Books are my friends, an escape, it's always been that way. But to actually write one? Yeah, right. What would I write? I can read, fersher, but could I actually write a book? Do I actually want someone to read it? I know, I know, that's what books are for, but you know what I mean, right? The main concern being what in the freakin hell would I write about?! My thought of writing a book always ended there.
I did it. I know what I'm going to write about. I have a plan. An outline of sorts. There's a place inside of me, where my heart would be, I'm imagining. And in this place, as I'm thinking about this step that I took...the step where a fleeting thought becomes A Plan. My heart gets a fluttery and I want to smile. Just a tiny smile, but a good smile. No timeline, I might be fifty years old when I'm ready to share my creation with anyone.
I'm ready to dream again. I haven't wanted to in such a very long time. I wondered where I had gone, the real me. I'm still here, Me!