You may one day forget the world as it has been to you thus far. Your memories might turn cloudy and foggy with distractions that you never before considered potent. Even your thoughts might not be loud enough to you as you try to process every impulse your nervous system shoots out for you during those one-on-one conversations we all have with our own selves everyday.
You may dress like a misfit, hanging loose by a fragile thread of flesh and bone, and everyone you know may treat you as if though you are friable enough to combust at the slightest provocation or stimulus.
It may seem almost impossible to comprehend the idea that you had ever been considered attractive by another human being, because your skin now sags and crumples like an old pillow that needs replacement. It certainly seems impossible that you were ever able to run or jump or dance or travel for hours on end just to explore a new country or culture.
But you did all that, and you had all those experiences. You had your time in the sun being the center of attention. Believe it or not, you didn't always have wrinkles, and your hair wasn't always white like the moon. You didn't have all that you do now, and you started from scratch. All you had was a big idea and nothing to lose.
You hadn't always had the security of knowing and possessing true love in your life. You were once scared out of your wits about things that turned out exactly how they were always meant to turn out.
We all come with a story to tell, and sometimes if we're lucky, God allows us to record this story and save it for posterity so that one day, there may be another young mind that reads your story and gains courage to believe in destiny and his power to give it a finer shape.
Never stop writing. Never stop dreaming. And no matter what the cost may be, no matter how opaque your thoughts may one day become, never permit the death of imagination, because that will be the day you truly stop mattering to this world. That will be the death of you.