About this one…I was standing in the kitchen, my phone in hand, cooking some pasta when I had an urge to look out of the window. I let my phone slide to the bench as I cast the curtain aside and you know what I saw? I saw the clothesline, devoid of clothing, I saw an empty pond, the fish all gone, I saw the remains of a caravan, torn and battered upon the ground, I saw the bird cage, empty of birds, I saw the trampoline, unused and filthy, I saw the big plum tree, its leaves withered and dry, I saw the dog, barking uselessly at the fence…And then I saw the grass, the new, fragile, delicate shoots of grass, and I began to hope, for just a minute that, maybe, where I lived could be beautiful. And in that instant, I thought maybe I could be beautiful too.

Now, as I write this comment, my laptop switches song… And as the opening bars of “The Prayer” by Anthony Callea ring through the headphones, I begin to cry, the lyrics stumbling over my lips as I struggle with the Italian pronunciation, yet still understanding every word, and I let the tears fall for a change…And as the sobs rack my shoulders, he sings: “Give us strength.”
And somewhere, I actually begin to hope, because my home may not be beautiful, my family loud and rude, I may not like my school, I may not like the people around me, and I may hate myself at times, but even though I hate myself, I can still love who I am. I can let that tiny flame of hope smoulder in the back of my mind, let it writhe occasionally as I complete some small goal, because I have finally, fully realised, that who I am is me, and no matter my circumstances, I will always be me.

I used to think that I couldn’t go to University, I could never become a writer or a dancer or a mechanic or any of my small dreams, because my parents never did it, because we don’t really have a lot of money. And I was okay with just locking away my dreams and putting them away; hiding them under my bed and getting on with what little life I had… Occasionally bringing them out to look at what could have been, what I could have done.

I had resigned myself to ending up as a housewife, my dreams still shut up and dusty from years of disuse, but now, I refuse to be that.
I don’t want to be just a mum, I want to go to University and I want to get a degree in teaching.
I want to publish a book of poetry, and show everyone else that said I never could do it that they’re wrong.
I want to become a better photographer and I want to photograph one, just ONE wedding, to prove to myself that I am good enough.
I want to draw more manga, because I can do it, I can draw manga well, for someone who only started two days ago.
I want to get married in a suit, not a dress, because that’s what I want, I don’t want to be a typical white wedding bride.
I want to dance everyday, and sing and learn guitar, because I love to sing and dance, I may suck at it but I don’t care.
I want to go to Ireland, just to see the country and dance on the rough green grass, and laugh when it starts to rain on me.
And just for a laugh, I want to cook a soufflé and throw it at Ryan when he walks in singing, ruining my hard work. I want to laugh as he ducks and we watch the soufflé land against the wall. Because my dream said so.
I want to do so much more than that…And I will, just cause I can.

Well yeah….That was a long comment... And I feel alright now…
Anyway, please leave comments and favourites if you want, totally up to you, no pressure. And uh, you poke fun at my artists comment, and I’m going to hunt you down and poke you with a knife, *smiles*