What it feels like to dream

it all feels like “pretend,” nothing real, all in my head. I get up every day and write but it doesn’t feel real, like it will never manifest, just words on a computer screen or a short story I discuss with a friend and the rest of the world doesn’t care. it doesn’t feel real like it will never put money in my bank, or food in my mouth or keep a roof over my head, that it’s just a hobby, that I’m going to die a dreamer. and I know I have to believe, believe like I breathe, because that’s how we make the impossible, possible. I have to see it.