No one teaches you how to not be afraid of your dreams.
When you’re a kid, older people tell you to reach for the life you want.
What will you be, they ask.
Dream Big, they’ll tell you.
An enticement that rings like a long awaited phone call.
So you do.
You pick the most ideal life for yourself, and as you grow, you become more and more comfortable with trying on the maintenance for what you’ve chosen.
And it feels good.
Like you have a purpose.
Like when you answered that question about who you would be all those years ago, you were telling the truth.
But somewhere in the journey (like in your teens and in your 20z) that truth begins to feel like fiction.
Like maybe you’ve been trying on pretty costumes your whole life and now it’s time to grow up.
Purpose that you’ve clung to with enough confidence to start a life, fades into a glitter dust as if the clock struck midnight.
Think practically. You hear those same voices from your childhood say.
You can’t be a kid forever.
So dreaming is for kids, you gather.
And adults leave their smiles behind for “stability” and “real life.”
A closer look and you realize those cheerful voices who prompted you for this disappoint when your eyes were wide with the lust of growing up–had given up long before they offered those empty instructions.
Dream Big.
You remember.
And you know you can’t be angry with them.
How could they teach you to believe in yourself when no one taught them?
So here you stand.
At the brink of true adulthood–with a 50/50 shot.
Will you adapt?
Bury what you know?
No.
What you feel–so deeply within you that it burns to keep it quiet.
Or do you keep dreaming?
Do you recognize that as you grow dreams will sometimes be nightmares?
Will you dream anyway?
Can you trade your try ons for doing?
Will you do it?
That dream.
Can you withstand the caution for common sense and believe just as hard as you did back then?
Will you renounce ending up common?
Does your voice die in your 20z?
Does your spirit?
Do you?
Thoughts In My 20z 
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