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Sacrificing your dreams at the altar of reality is a rite of passage for everyone but a handful of rock stars and ballerinas. You can’t ever let that shit get to you, or else you’ll end up leading one of those lives of quiet desperation.
The trick is a healthy line of succession. When a dream dies, you gotta pick up that crown and put it on the next head right away. It doesn’t matter if the new dream is thirteen years old and terrified, that bitch is queen now.
The dream is dead. Long live the dream.
Coke Talk (via crookedindifference)