A dream I constructed to please my mother.


A dream is not something to take lightly

A dream is not something to parade around

A dream is something to hold close to your heart for fear someone may steal it

A dream is something your heart knows you need

A dream is something your flesh craves

Something that makes your blood boil

A dream is not something to lie about

A dream is not something to construct to please your mother

And yet

That is exactly what I did

The age old question

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

A question every small child is ready to provide an answer to

An answer so rehearsed it begins to lose its meaning

Or maybe it had no meaning at all

Are your dreams really your own

Or are they created by society and placed in our still fragile minds?

We are bombarded from a small age what success looks like

Always comparing our parents to a friend’s

“My dad would win in a fight” -"No my dad would"

Trying to outdo the other

Tryin to prove our worth -Our success

Why are we so focused on appearances?

And not just those of the physical sense

But rather those that show our wealth

Our Power

Our Greed

Our Success

Why are those words nearly synonymous in our society?

Why are we so focused on becoming someone with these presumed good attributes?

Is that really all that matters?

I’ve had a dream since I was 12 years old

A dream so real

So true

So pure

So sacred -I refused to share

A dream I kept to myself

For fear of being judged

Because like most girls I was raised hating myself

But unlike most girls I was raised with the weight of the world

With this nearly innate belief that I had to be more

That I was the hope of the world

That I was the one to change things

That I had to be perfect

And so when people asked me that age old question

I always had my replies

My dreams that I constructed to please my mother

Dreams that truly were not mine

Dreams that were hers because being a mother was not her dream

But that is where we differ greatly

While she doesn’t wish children unto me

That is my only dream

To become a mother

A dream constructed to please me.


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