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How Medium Made Me Rethink My Childhood Dream
I might, I can, I will, I must.
What do you want to be when you grow up, Elizabeta?
( silence )
Cotton candy, so sweet and fun. Dream on, sweet child, dream brave and dream dare. Let the world follow.
It always seemed like a blurry dream to me, a long-distance whisper, colors more vague than vividly bright, like a script left unread. I never spoke this word out loud: Writer. Not in front of anybody. It never slipped from the edge of my tongue. I always found a way to keep it hushed.
The word remained held in silence, quietly buried throughout the years to come, but the echo was persistent.
Raised in a family of entrepreneurs, dreaming big was allowed, and ambition was even an expected necessity, but not for being a poetic soul.
I had a chance to publish some short stories and poems in school magazines, and it always made me proud like nothing else in this world. I did not realize at that time why it felt so right, I was too young to distinguish that feeling from any other joy. You are young, you will have plenty more situations to find this fulfilling joy, right? The whole life is right in front of you. I did not understand at that time that this was my…
