Sometimes I lay awake at night just dreaming of love stories and I fall asleep wondering. Just making everything perfect. Down to every detail. My outfit, his long yet powerful strides. My shy yet anxious smile, his smirk, practically teasing me. But then I wake up and the story is gone and all the "love" that I had imagined is just ashes scattered around by the wind. All the sparks died. All the flame was extinguished by daylight. My dreams are only real in the twilight of the moon...and even then they are still so far out of reach. My love stories will always be just that: stories. They will always be just dreams floating above my head, never a concrete reality to walk on and hold to. Or this is what I tell myself. Isn't it sometimes easier to lie to yourself than to believe something that seems so impossible? It is for me. But then I know God has a plan, and all my dreaming is pointless because it couldn't ever be as beautiful as God's love story. The moon holds its power no longer. The sunlight brings the reality that God is working within every part of me, and I don't have to create these perfected stories anymore. It won't be perfect. I won't wear the right thing. I won't say the right thing. But I stand there knowing I am in God's will and that's all that really matters right? Not one love story I could create would ever mean anything if it weren't in God's will.
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