I want. I want. I want.
"She thought a long time and kept
hitting her thighs with her fists. Her face felt like it was scattered in
pieces and she could not keep it straight. The feeling was a whole lot worse
than being hungry for any dinner, yet it was like that. I want-I want-I want
was all she could think about--but just what this real want was she did not
know."
For so long, I have not ever known what I wanted. I could tell you what I didn’t want: Where
would you like to eat? I don’t know, but
not McDonalds, etc. Somewhere along the
way I stopped giving myself permission to dream.
For the first time in a long time, I know something that I
want. Something big. Something that I will have to really work
hard for. Something that I will have to
wait for. Something that I will have to
prove that I really do want by not giving up.
Even if I work really hard and even if I do not give up, there is still
a chance that this dream will not happen.
I understand that. I think it will
be worth trying for.
<center><a href="http://www.emilywierenga.com/" target="_blank" title="Imperfect Prose"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-3s5KmhxpIYU/T4Inziu4R4I/AAAAAAAAENk/LTq221viFVc/s144/imperfectprose.jpg"/></a></center>