I love to draw. I live to write. I sing and play guitar, ukulele, bongos, pianos, and anything else I can get my hands on - even I have no idea how to play it.
I like to believe in myself from time to time. I like to imagine that maybe I can pull it off, that I can be a success, that I -can- do it.
I’m trying to figure out how to write this book that’s so vivid and fantastic in my mind. I want to share this story and so many others with everyone and anyone even remotely interested.
But lately these days, I’ve been needing more and more help reminding myself of all of these things.
I have a full-time job and go to night school to get a degree for said job, it’s a trade skill: HVAC/R - you know, those guys who crawl up rooftops, into ceilings, and down basements to fix and install air conditioners, furnaces and similar things.
I’m so happy and lucky to have a job like this, especially at only 21 years old and miraculously with no debts or loans. I’m happy I’m working towards being self-reliant, soon I’ll hopefully be able to move out of my parents house.
That’s why it hurts so much to even think about complaining…
To complain about how much I detest my career and occupation despite how lucky I am to have a job at all.
To complain about how everyday I feel more hollowed and drained as I cling desperately to dreams I beg come to fruition.
To complain about how lonely, empty, and tired I feel all the time.
To complain about how badly I wish I could run anywhere and everywhere I’d love to go and see.
It’s petty to complain, but it helps a little.
I’m just glad I have people in my life to help get through the shitty days and remind me what I’m supposed to do.
I know a lot of people are just like me - some luckier and some worse off - but all equally miserable.
I want to tell you it’ll be okay.
Only you can let your dreams die.
And know that I believe in you, and that the world would be so much colder and darker without your dreams in it.
