Today was a difficult day. As I mull over what happens next, and if I should permit myself continued hope in a boyhood dream, I weigh the words of Langston Hughes.

Dream Deferred by Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore–
And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over–
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?