conflicted.

I like to believe that I was made to dream.

I was always told to chase them.

My head fluttered with thoughts of all I could be.

My thoughts,

my inner-self pulling me in directions that conflicted with my body,

my outer-self.

That voice in my head telling me don't let go,

reach harder.

You'll make it.

Don't you dare let go.

I had to believe in myself.

I had to believe I could make it.