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
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
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 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.