And here I am, the difference between the ideal and real me waning every day. The costume and the being slowly growing greyer, not a dreamer but a doer, someone actually putting forth the effort. My flaws becoming open but also gifts. My curses, my tools. The question no longer whether I’d be anything, but how far I will go. One day I might be an expert at something, a real challenge for someone who’s hardly had an ego. Is this how healing happens? Why am I so scared of who I am afterwards?