What do you do when you want something so much, but are scared you'll never attain it?
For such a long time I've wanted to be a writer. I've always known that I wanted to be a writer. Now, I feel like if I don't write I'll suffocate. I want to make a living from my words. Is that too much to ask? Is that wrong?
And yet, this unexplainable fear chokes me, leaving my voice raspy and my body helpless. A constant fear drowning me with the what ifs? I see others making it. Others progressing. I'm stuck. I scream and yell and cry and nobody hears me. Nobody hears me drowning in my dreams.
It's my own fault too. A dream is supposed to be butterflies in a field of poppies. Instead, my dream is a caterpillar being crushed before it can transform into the beautiful butterfly.
I don't make sense. I know I don't. I make excuses. I say I will do something and I don't. It feels that I will always be stuck. Here. Drowning. Until I can't even fight back anymore and then I will be stuck dead.
I want my dreams to come true so badly that it feels like a slow death if they don't. Why can't I be different? Determined? Going after the things I want. Those are the people that make it and achieve something.
The very thing that is supposed to be freeing me right now is the one thing holding me back. More time. More freedom. And what do I use these things for? Do I write, no? I research; I read: How do I do this? How do I do that? Yes all good and well, but knowledge is nothing if not put into action.
My heart aches. My heart literally aches. You don't know me, but as I write this tears roll down my face. It's true. I want someone to tell me that I can be that butterfly, but don't tell me that unless you really mean it.
I feel my words are ugly. Child's play. I'm tempted to erase all of this right now, but then it would be like keeping all these feelings and emotions inside. I can't do that right now. I need to spill it all out. I need someone to understand me. I sound so needy. It's ridiculous.
All of this because I want to write. I want to make a living off of my writing. Don't mistake the words I've written for a rant. Please. They are not. They are much more than that. They are the things I keep inside. Deny. They are painful. I hurt. I cry. I tremble as I write all of this. I'm so scared, and I'm scared of putting this out for you, whoever you are, to read. Maybe one day I'll because a well-known author and these very words I wrote will circle around. People will talk. Whisper. I don't know what they will say. I can imagine different people will say different things.
To all of you I say, I just hope the day comes that I do have that problem because it will mean my dream came true. It will mean that my words, my stories, my ideas impacted people enough that I'm even known.
I am a writer. I once thought I could accomplish anything. I want that again. That feeling that children and teenagers have that nothing can stop them. I want to do things without thinking twice about why I shouldn't do it. About why I'm incapable of doing them.
When will things change? Mostly, when will I change and be strong enough to go for what I want?
I am a writer. I want to make a living from my writer. It scares me. It pains me. It consumes me. I don't want to be alone in this.