*smile*
I used to dreams a lot. I’ve dreams about, as what one would think of the word, all the good things that could have happen to me.
Nowadays it seems I’ve dare not to dream much. Is it because of the fear which was sparked from the bad dreams i’ve had? Or could it be the fear that sparks from the uncertainty about the authenticity of the dreams I’ve had? Or is it just a progression to live in reality, minimising the space of a young gentlemen growing into adulthood to dream?
It could be of many reasons. Yet, one thing is certain.
I do not live in the dream, I live to prove it is not a dream.
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