The Death and Birth of Dreams

One goes through life wondering what to do and either their choices in life are right or wrong. Decisions that seem very reasonable at one point might one day turn your life on its head and you find yourself wondering what just happened and what do I do now. When I was younger, I had dreams of being a professional football player. But being not very good at it, it turned to just a hobby. Then as I enjoyed music, I turned to play the piano (after quitting at a younger age) and then the guitar. I then dreamed of being a famous musician. This too I find being not a very good at, became a past time. At the time, these dreams so exciting but after a while seem so far out of reach and caused me much distress.

This was how I felt till about the end of last year, that being 2009. There came upon me a feeling of being lost and trapped in my condition. A deep sadness and sorrow came over me constantly. To dig myself out from this rut it came to me I should fine an outlet with which to express myself. With that, I began blogging and writing. I began with writing my first poem and felt so much alive after that experience. This then became such a rush for me. I found that I enjoyed writing so much so that I began writing fiction also. Ah, what wonder to create stories from thin air. I also rediscovered my love for drawing as another form of expression.

Now here I am, several months on and still enjoy doing these things. I believe this to be my calling in life. I say this because as with the previous want of being a football player and musician, I was discouraged for being not good at these things and thought mediocre is all I should be. With writing, I truly do not care if I suck or not. It is me to write, it is my expression. To take that away, would be taking away a part of me. I do not care if I am a great or horrible writer. I am a writer. This is not a dream, this is my being.