I hate Ideas
I hate ideas. I'll be living my normal life and all of the sudden...BAM it will hit me like a ton of bricks; all of the sudden, I can't focus on anything else. Someone might be talking to me and then...BAM I might seem like I am paying attention to you, but don't be fooled, when an idea comes, I'm gone (Happened last night). Or I will be reading a great book and then an idea hits (Happened this morning), and I can't even focus on the words I'm reading! It's like I see this this thing, this idea, which isn't tangible or course, but it just seems SO real to me.
I think, hope is kind of like firewood to a stove. Hope is the firewood, we are the stove. For me, sometimes it's hope, this fire, that keeps my heart beating.
It's a hope that one day this dream will become reality.
It's a hope that one day the invisible will become visible.
I am wired to think of a new hope every day. I'm a dreamer and I hope, deep down, that we all are dreamers.