The two minute call she got on a Tuesday night was the best moment of her life. She vaguely recalls the name of the caller but had resorted to calling her Joy. Joy to her was the symbol of hope. She was the answer to her prayers and a beacon of good fortune.
Picture this… You’re in a dark room and just when the darkness overwhelms you and you want to scream a door is opened. It’s opened so wide you can see the other side and that’s where you want to go. As you start moving towards it the door is shut tight. All that’s left is the thin ray of light that seeps in from the space between the wall and the hinges. Once again you’re in darkness but this time it’s worse. Because you know where you want to go but you’re helpless in the dark.
That’s how she felt. Helpless and abit angry too. She had her dream so close yet so far beyond her reach. She had dared to dream big, dared to share her vision and the world has made her feel it’s possibility. The world has accepted her ambitions and convinced her she wasn’t insane. All that then suddenly put it away.
Joy had given her a blessing that had been wrapped up in layers of burden. She couldn’t afford the school. The thought that all her hopes would be crushed by circumstances broke her soul. She wondered if that was why so many people didn’t have ambition. Because they had tasted the distinct bitter taste of dissapointment. She wondered if maybe they had known what having a big dream meant.
Eventually thinking about the best news she’d received brought her to tears. The beautiful memory had been covered by a burden of pain. She had to pay the price of having big dreams but have a small reality. The painful reality was that she was gifted a soul with so much fire. She would fight even after her soul was all burnt out. She stuck to believing in fairytales. She would live by the strength of the spark that created fireworks.