Disappointment, Delay, Doldrums

I remember my younger self and I wonder what happened.  I looked at the world with so much potential, I was going to make a change I just didn’t know how.  I was energetic and full of hope.  I was excited and eager to explore and change the world.  Then something changed, then I grew up.

Slowly this desire to make change turned to cynicism and anger.  Slowly I realized the dreams I had were unrealistic.  Slowly the need to earn a living overtook the need to change the world.  I realized that most people don’t want change anyway.  I fell slowly into the life I have now.  University ground me down, working a job I never planned on polished me further into this lump of lost human.

Once I dreamed of living in a grungy apartment toiling away on my novels while working some menial job.  Then I wrote a few novels and realized that unless I was okay with living in a grungy apartment my whole life this would not be the best path.  I realized that I could hold down a job and write on the side.  I realized that unless you write a few best sellers it’s damn near impossible to make a living as a fiction writer in the modern publishing landscape.

I dreamed of serving in the military, of doing a job with meaning, danger and excitement.  Of working outside and in all conditions.  Of working in physically demanding positions while also being challenged mentally.  Then I received my medial rejection letter and that one fell apart quick.

I dreamed of starting a business and working for myself, but fell into a pit where I found no ideas.  Where I realized that I didn’t have much in the way to offer to the world.  Where I tried selling used books in a unique way but found it impossible to make that important first sale.  Where I tried and failed.

Now I dream of creating an amazing game, a blend of narrative and mechanics.  One that takes from my various different skills and provides a unique experience.  I’m starting to realize that this is near impossible with no real skills to back me up.  That I’m five years of learning before I can even really attempt that.

I dream of creating genuine art in the form of film and having that get noticed on the internet.  Slowly I’m realized that is much easier dreamt then done.  I dream of actually publishing a novel but realize that is just as much a dream as everything else.  I want to work for myself and work on things I’m passionate about but I’m starting to realize that I might be stuck in the realm of hobby with my passions.

I work at a job now that pays the bills.  I’m staring down the barrel of forty years here, stuck in the same role, passed up for promotion again and again.  If not this job than another that’s similar to it.  I’m staring at a lifetime of work for nothing.

I will keep trying and failing to achieve something though because I don’t know what else to do.  I will keep trying and failing to create something beautiful.  Maybe I will start to find meaning in the struggle because at this point I’m starting to realize it’s the only thing that will be there.

I will keep trying.  I will keep moving.  I will have new dreams and maybe they will be less stupid.  Maybe I’ll end up actually good at something.  Maybe I’ll end up where I can make a living doing something that matters instead of sitting like a parasite.  Maybe one day I’ll be able to have something to show for all this.

Or maybe I’d be better off buying lottery tickets.

Hope hurts because it is a lie in the face of endless truth.

So yeah, this isn’t a downer post, more of a defiance in the face of disappointments and delays on dreams.  To keep struggling is all I have.

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