My dreams for the future sit amongst the stars.
I look up. There they are, beautiful and shining. Perfect in the frozen night that surrounds them.
No wonder I’m afraid of saying “this is it, here I am.” No wonder I’m on a neverending climb and refuse to reach the end of the ladder. I’d rather jump off and start going up another one. I don’t want to reach the last rung and see now far below the stars my life is.
They are too far off and way too perfect. Anything I do will never match up to those standards.
Maybe I need to swap my stars for clouds.