You know, sometimes I feel like optimism is a tiny star I sprinkle over my ideas. When a thought is just a flicker, that little spark can turn it into a warm glow that pulls it out of the dreamscape and into the daylight. I often find myself chasing that glow, letting it guide the outline of a story so it doesn’t stay forever swirling in my head. But then my mind, that restless little wanderer, starts to wonder if it’s too bright, if the world will get burnt. I try to balance that—use positivity as a compass, not a fire that burns everything. When I let optimism breathe in, the characters start to walk out of the page, their steps measured by a hopeful rhythm, and suddenly the fantasy feels a little less impossible. It’s a dance between keeping the dream alive and stepping into the real, and that spark of hope keeps the music going.