Shattered dreams

When I was 16, I had a dream that by the time I reached 30, I would have it all – a doting husband, a couple of children, a sterling career, a big house with a big garden where George, our German Shephard would live and play, a big car, and most importantly, I would live happily ever after.

Coming from the quaint little town of Kuantan, it was quite normal for 16-year-olds to have these kinds of dreams. Because in Kuantan, there was not much one can do, and not much to do. All we had were our dreams, determination and sheer hard work.

I am now past 30. I have no husband or children. I have no house. No big car.  No sterling career. No happy ending.

All things considered, I still think I’ve done well for myself in the big city. Kuala Lumpur, I mean. I have a career of sorts, am financially independent, and am generally able to take care and fend for myself.

Except that I have to tell the 16-year-old girl in me that her dreams are never coming true. And I know it will just break her heart.