An old man sat on a park bench. He was in his sixties; his silver hair and wrinkled skin showed it. He was a harmless old man, couldn't harm anyone and wouldn't have the strength if he tried. He gripped his cane and leaned back, watching little ones and their families as they passed by. He would smile at the young ones, especially if they were playing a game. After awhile, he stood to walk down the park's path.
"Your turn Collin!" Jess, onne of the children sitting nearby, shouted. She had always been a very enthusiastic child.
"Well.. I don't know. What do you wanna be when you grow up?" He asked her.
She stood up and stuck a pose. "I wanna be a superstar!" She squealed and hopped back down into her seat. The old man has over heard her squeals as he walked by, and he couldn't help but smile at her.
"A superstar, eh?" The man asked her.
"Yeah! Check this out." She started singing and pretending to play the guitar. She bowed theatrically and stood there as the man and Collin applauded. "What about you, Collin! Come on!" She turned the attention towards him, and he sat there uncomfortably.
"Oh. I don't know... I don't wanna do anything." He shrugged his shoulders and looked down.
The old man's expression fell a bit. He didn't like hearing that a child with such a good life to live could merely just give up! He reached over and patted the boy's shoulder.
"Why's that?" The man asked.
"Because I want to know what my dreams are first." He said softly.
Then realization hit the man, as well as deja vu.
"Never give up on finding them, my boy. And when you find them, pursue them." He said smiling, and headed away, leaving the two children to continue their fun and games.
he walked slowly through the chilly park, and it started getting darker within the forestlike park. The path he was taking led away from his home, but he continued to take it all the same. He was deep in thought. The little boy had inspired wondrings from him.
He thought about what life would be like if one never realized their dreams. If singers didn't realize they liked to sing, then music would be wordless. If musicians didn't realize they liked to play music, the world would be soundless. If painters didn't realize they liked to paint, the world would be colorless. If humans didn't realize they liked to create, the world would be no more. Life as he knew it would be no more.
The plant life grew thicker, and he knew he was lost. The path had ended ages ago while he was thinking. The odd thing was, he noticed, he wasn't scared. He wasn't worried about not getting home, because no one was waitng for him. He wasn't scared that he would get to do what he loved the next day.
He realized he had nothing. No people and no dreams to live up to. This depressed him dearly. He finally came to the realization that he had given up on his dreams long ago.
He approached a creek. Over it, fairly high above it, was a bridge. It was surely sturdy, and he leaned up against it for a moment.
He felt very content with the fact that he was lost. He was basking in the sorrow of defeat, and he didn't want people to see him like that. He wished and wanted that people would see him as a man who lived a full life, when he'd actually barely lived a life at all.
He stepped onto the bridge, and found that it was as sturdy as he thought. He left his cane on it as he stepped to just the side of the bridge, watching the running waters below.
He knew what he was doing as he got close to the edge of the creek.
"If i can't have my dream in this life... I will in my next one. I promise, this time for real... " He said to himself. After these words he let himself fall down, and the waters carried him away.