All men dream but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity; but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes to make it possible.
Sometimes, I feel like all of this is for nothing. I spend hours upon hours pouring words onto paper with the hope that someday someone will find my work worthy of publication. But behind that hope is fear. Fear that I’m wasting my time. Fear that it’s only arrogance that has gotten me this far. Who am I to say that I could ever be good enough?
Yet here I am—still writing, still striving to hone my craft. We’re all still here, and that's what separates us from those that merely dream.
I like to think I’m not a dreamer. I’m a doer. Though I may never reach the end of this road, I’m not just sitting on a rock watching others pass me by. I’m walking there beside them or behind them and learning everything I can. I’m finding my way step by step and maybe someday I’ll get there. Maybe someday I’ll be one of those “dangerous [wo]men” who “make it possible”. Maybe. For now, I’m enjoying the journey.