I don't remember much from my childhood dreams...

I do have a couple of diaries from high school, but that's about it.

I still remember, however, the first girl I ever liked. But knowing her fate was a crushing blow to what was left of that dream.

Reality is always in front of my footsteps, as if I'm tracing my own in the snow ahead.

But why does it have to be like that?

Wishes don't have to come true, but if I always succumb to reality, then wishing is a mere fancy of what I've once had.

Don't give up, a wish that comes true may not be the best outcome.

I reckon, the wish is what makes a dream, and a dream is what I still long for.

Even after all these years...