Death of a dream.

When I was young, before I thought to be King and before I wanted to marry David Bowie, I had definite ideas about how my life would turn out. I knew. I had drive, motivation, a plan.

Now I can barely drag my ass out of bed each morning.

I'm trying to pinpoint when that knowledge died. When the dream vanished. When reality set in. I can't really find the moment in time. I probably wasn't paying attention. Or maybe I was just high. Either way ...

When did the dream die for you? When did the rose coloured glasses slip away? I bet you can't pinpoint it either.

One day you wake up ... and it's gone.