Dreams

I am young.
I have dreams.

Remember when I was five and I wanted to be an astronaut, inventor and author?
I'm sure you did too,
We all did as children.
Reaching out with my tiny arms to grasp my future with all the strength I could muster,
Just the way I wanted all the books or all the cookies.
My childish "All mine!" extending to my life, my career.
Wanting everything there is to offer in this world in one breath.

I never thought I'd feel the same way again.
But here I am, with my arms stretched out and grasping my future even tighter.
For now it's closer, dearer, more tangible.
The thought that I never imagined I'd have:
"There is so much to do, only one life to live.
So much to get, and so much to give."
Every feeling there is. Every taste, every touch,
I want it all before I die.

So in the end, I'm still here.
That five year old girl screaming "MINE!" with her death grip on her dreams.
Refusing to let go of any, with my constant refrain of
"I want everything there is to offer in this world".

But dreams are slippery things.