The death of a dream must be the ultimate sadness.
It is the very thing you prayed for, sought after, thought about,
and hoped for when you woke and when you layed down. It is
the thing that you believed in with every part of your being, with
every fiber that made you.. you. It is the thing that all the little
events were to lead up to.
And then, one day, you realize it's gone. It's not just gone, poof,
disappeared. It evaporated. Or rather, maybe it slowly leaked out.
One moment at a time. One unanswered prayer at a time. One
battle lost after another. The sound of the pain and disappoint suddenly
began to drown out the hope of the dream. And suddenly life became cold
and dark.
Certainly there would still be moments of optimism that would rally
within your soul. But it was not enough to resurrect what had been
decaying all along.
On days that I saw the grey clouds filled with rain, I would smile knowing
that the sunshine was sure to follow. But in all that sunny optimism I failed
to acknowledge the tears that had fallen from the sky, that continued to wash
away hope. I guess it was just easier to look at the sunshine.
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