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Maybe the biggest dreams are actually the smallest ones,

The ones we would never admit to,

The ones that scare us the most.

And why you ask?

Why would we never admit them?

Maybe because they seem irrelevant,

Even insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

How could a simple dream of waking up next to you every morning be big enough?

Or dream of spending Sunday afternoons together,

Sitting in silence,

Reading a book,

Sipping a tea,

While my feet gently rest on yours.

How could these simple things be big enough to ever admit them?

And why are they scarier than climbing Mount Everest

Or sailing the world?


Maybe the biggest dreams are the smallest ones,

Not because of their grandiosity,

But because they scare us the most.