I used to dream, I used to wonder

I used to dream.  I used to wonder.

I used to build castles in the sky and flower shops in my future.

I used to plan continent-spanning road trips.  And I believed that they could happen.

I used to dream up crazy outfits.  And then I'd wear them.  At 21, I feel trapped, like I'm too old to wear five bracelets if I want to.

I used to marvel at the world around me.  I'd steal away, snatching moments to myself, long walks in nature with nothing but my thoughts.

I used to dream.  I used to wonder.

I used to draw up crazy floor plans and build dream homes on graphing paper.

I used to dream of ways that I'd make a difference, paths I'd take that would lead me to somewhere, a somewhere where I was somebody, somebody who could make her dreams come true.

I used to tear pictures out of magazines and catalogs, then dream up ways to turn my thrift store finds into something that reminded me of my media clippings.

I used to dream.

I used to wonder.

Somewhere between "I used to" and today, I lost all my potential.

Without dreams, we never achieve anything greater than our current existence.

Without wonder, we lose the ability to perceive beauty and we lose sight of how we fit into that beauty.

I used to dream that I might be a wedding planner.  The closest I got to that today was planning my own dinner.

I used to dream of becoming a makeup artist.  I pondered a great deal on a co-worker's blush, but I didn't even play with my own color today.

I used to wonder if God's favorite color was green like mine, but today I hardly noticed the beautiful greens of spring.

I used to wonder how it feels to be another person.  I deeply pondered how different it would be to experience life from another body, mind, and soul.  Today I barely considered how the people around me felt about their situations.

I used to dream and I used to wonder.

I used to imagine almost constantly and on occasion I would create.

I used to escape the mundane, the tedious here and now.

I used to contemplate all sorts of ideas, emotions, possibilities.  Any more, I'm too busy debating how discontent I am to examine the source behind it.

I used to explore and take adventures.

I used to get excited, about big things and little things.  I'd show the same enthusiasm for a pretty rock as I would for the announcement of a vacation and not feel any shame.

I used to dance when my family was in the next room.

I used to sit in the quiet, sometimes in the dark and let my mind wander.

I used to seek out music that made me feel, made me happy, made me sad, took me back to times and places, brought back memories and helped me heal.

I used to dream.  I was a romantic to the point of being dangerously naive.  I would easily have fit into a fairytale.

I used to wonder.  And when I articulated those thoughts of wonderment, people just looked at me like I was a loon.  I didn't care.

I used to dream like the best daydreamers, but oh, I was happier in my dreaming days.

I used to wonder like the most curious five-year-old you've ever met, but I was at such peace when I could find something magical everyday.

I used to dream.

I used to wonder.

But never did I dream that today I would be wondering, how on earth did my thoughts go those places.