A different country

I always wanted to run away to a different country and start my life over. I looked for the country of my dreams but I always find they are too real for my liking. The country I wanted to buy a one-way ticket to was my imagination. To live from pure potential in every moment.

But aren’t my dreams beautiful enough? I have survived so far, for the sake of their beauty, my arms tired from holding them high above my head while I wade through the mud of life. Everything I have lost has been for its sake. Beauty and magic ask that we believe in their realness, in their weight. I believe it, I feel it in my heavy body and my broken heart and my doubting mind. I feel it in the vast desolation of the future that it threatens to dominate.