Questions to the Psyche, Punches to the Face

Who am I to say that a dream can come true? Who the fuck is anybody to say that? When Thomas was telling me today how he wanted to be like Warren Buffet, I felt mad like telling him, NO, NO YOU CANNOT BE WARREN BUFFET SIR,
but
no
no, you miserable asshole, no
just no
that breed of thought is venomous, a complete and utter fuckin pestilence
If he wants to be Warren Buffet, then I'm going o watch as he turns into Warren Buffet. He's been given a road walk down, I've been given mine, and if he want to go down his road a different way than I lazily stumble down mine, So let it be motherfuckin written, so let it be goddamn told. Dreams are fragile, they break in an instant, it's up to ourselves to protect them if ever we still want to live a life we really want to live. If I ever really want to have the guts to call him friend ever, I'd better well fuckin know that I will let his dreams go unhindered through this world. All of my friend's dreams and hopes matter
That's how it works
The problem is these days, no one really knows what their dreams for a happy life really are anymore