I dream of becoming a singer. It’s silly as I’m not very good and live in a tiny town, but I still dream of it. This is something I’ve never told anyone. I’ve always just kept it to myself.
When people ask me what I want to be when I get older, I say a doctor. It seems like a reasonable and logical choice. I’m really good at science and math, and I am even going to go to a special national medicine program for teens this summer. It seems like the smart path, but it’s not truly something that I love.
Music is what I love. I’m constantly listening to it. I’m constantly writing little poems and lyrics all over my notebooks. I’m constantly longing for the opportunity to become my dream.
I dream about it all the time. I dream of having to go into a recording studio. I dream of having writing sessions with talented writers. I dream of performing my songs to huge crowds. I dream of going to award shows (not necessarily to win awards but at least to watch other artists perform). I dream of people liking the music that I make. I dream of my music helping a girl escape like music helps me escape. I dream of all of this, but I’m stuck in my endless cycle of monotony. I’m stuck inside of these small town walls. Walls that I fear I’ll never be able to escape. These four hundred forty-five acres are so suffocating sometimes. I just hope and pray that maybe, just maybe, my dream will come true, but for now, I’ll go back to my endless cycle of monotony. A cycle where I wake up, go to school, come home, and start over. That’s all there is to it. I’ll just go back to constantly daydreaming about what I wish was but sadly isn’t.
