Dreams Aren’t Meant to Sleep

She was a lot of things, boring wasn’t one of them. People often misunderstood her, she celebrated her quirkiness and didn’t hide it as so many did. People couldn’t understand it, maybe because they could not find it within themselves to be unapologetically themselves. An offbeat dress paired perfectly with offbeat hair beautiful, loud, and clashing. Unusual would be a great word to describe her, magnificently unusual. Her laughter was defiant and typically inappropriate, but that never stopped her from laughing herself to tears, leaving her giddy and relaxed in the aftermath of those giggle fits. Whispering wasn’t something she ever properly learned either somehow she still spoke hushed but too loud.

She couldn’t keep her voice down, but she could keep a secret until her dying breath. So creative she could pick up any form of art as if it seeped effortlessly into her veins and was just a part of her. She could fix all the broken beautiful things as if she instantly knew what it would take to make them whole again. She was good at that, fixing broken things while being broken herself. She could spend a matter of moments with you and pick up on what you missed about yourself, your intended avenue in life. She would awaken those dreams you long placed to bed, the ones you hoped to place deep enough to be forgotten, but dreams are not given to be lost, they are given to those who can achieve them.

She was contagious, time spent with her would rekindle your hidden hopes and dreams. She didn’t set out to do it, she just did because she never lost sight of dreaming and she reminded you to dream too. Do not leave your dreams forgotten and buried deep, resurrect them, and remember that in a world and existence where existence in itself is miraculous that you too are miraculous and anything is possible.

Published by izzysconfessions

I was born and raised in the smallest of towns in Southwest Virginia. A town that is extraordinarily active, yet a town that is like it's very own little mini Bible belt. My dad was Baptist, my mom pentecostal, and I'm paranormal. I would venture to say it is somewhat of a family trait. One that is met with equal acceptance and curiosity as much as it is met with skepticism. Individually and collectively so much has been experienced and witnessed at times to such a degree that one might wonder how on earth there is room for doubt. I dont have all the answers, I do not have it all figured out. Im as human as everyone else relying heavily many mornings on a lot of coffee and a little Jesus. In fact, I can't decide what I want for dinner most days. One constant is I cannot go a single day without chocolate. Pour a cup of coffee, or a little tea and whiskey and join me in my confessions of a haunted freak.

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