I’m an artist. Naturally I want to share my dreams with whoever will listen to them. But as I get older, it’s naive of me to believe that always works. Dreams can be sacred and mankind can be cruel. I want to believe that in order to manifest desires into reality, that you have to openly action and communicate.
Today I learned how untrue this can be. I found myself crying at my screen as I returned a borrowed item. I didn’t care about the item. I cared that the request to have it returned was harsh and abusive. I regretted I shared an intimate piece of my mind with someone so cruel and ill, and I was relieved that it was now over and would fade like a lost plane ride to a familiar destination.