I had so many dreams for the future. I wanted to be a psychiatrist, a painter, a poet, a writer, an online comedian/ Youtuber, a writer, and a web designer (to name a few). Over time I started to realize that I live in the clouds a big chunk of the day. Some dreams were never meant to become realiti. That hurts.
For various reasons, they all fell apart … I have lived in an unsupportive family for all my life. I had to work for most of my young adult life. I had no support system other than a few friends along the way that rarely stuck by my side. One by one, they started to fall and the choice what I wanted to be in life was narrowed, not by my own choice.
My dreams, I am getting over you. In a rather sluggish pace.
One by one I started to lose a grip on what could have been real and what was. I started to get depressed, for I was living a life I never wanted for myself. I was not following my dreams, I was not following myself nor my wishes and desires. I have been losing my touch with my reality, not the one that was forced upon me.
The problem – I am getting OK with it. I am surviving. I don’t like the life that I am living and I am settling for it while every cell in my body screams to not give in but that is exactly what I am doing. The pressure is lifting, the chains have been broken for a long time, and they are not holding me back anymore. I do not hate myself for it as much as I used to. That’s the worse thing I could have done to myself. While I did hate myself, I still had the fire in me to change something in my life, and now that fire is dying.
getting over you
I used to wallow in self-deprivation thinking that I will never be able to do any of the things I have imagined. I am convincing myself day in and out that I still have a lot of time in front of me, even as time slips away from me, even if it is a little bit too late one day at a time.
But the truth is, none of us know that, and that is what is driving me crazy the most. I have the feeling like I should get certain shit done by a certain age, that I should have my life together by now and not be a fucking mess that I know I am. And all those feelings, all those things, I am pushing aside.
I hate myself for it.
It makes me stronger, it makes me more in touch with the real world, no matter how much I resent it and wish I was not a part of it. I wish no one had to learn what the outside of our homes looks like, what the system does to most of us.
I wish I was a part of the lucky little group who gets their dreams fulfilled.
Every day that passes I have to go to one more funeral in my mind. I wish I never had to. I wish I could have been given the chance and the luck for my dreams to come true too. I know I could do great things in my life if only I was allowed to breathe, if only I was allowed some time to adjust.
I hate that I have to keep going to your funerals my dearest darlings, I never wanted that for you.

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