All the Time

At what point do you give up on a dream? Or just simply realize that maybe it's not all that you thought it would be, that maybe what you thought it was, wasn't really it at all. Maybe the fact that it was an undemanding hobby that you did when you had time on weekends was one of the best parts about it. That you value the process of creating more than the final product. That maybe all that money spent on paints and canvases were only false hopes, just dressing the part.

What if I don't want to be an artist? What if I want something else? What if I'm just chasing after something I only kind of enjoy because I'm too afraid to go after what I really want? Or maybe I just want to grab hold of something, anything, I only slightly enjoy just to have a thing, a something about myself that isn't just darkness. Maybe I just need to know what I want to do with my life so badly, that I'm attaching myself onto the first thing I see. How can I devote my life to something, risk everything for that certain something, when I don't have passion for it? When it becomes a chore, when I can't even look at at my suppose-to-be-dream in the face because I know it's not the one I've looking for.

I've always been one of those people that if I saw something, I wanted to do it myself. I can't just enjoy art, I have to make it. I know I want to live a creative life, that small piece of information is one of the only things I do know, but I don't know what else I am other than darkness and art. It's what people know me as, yet most have rarely ever seen my art. They don't even know my heart lies elsewhere. That it beats for something else.

I just feel so much all the time. I have all these thoughts in my head, all the time. I worry about my family, all the time. I think about how in the hell I'm suppose to survive through sixty more years of  not knowing what I'm suppose to do with this life, all the time. I'm constantly searching for a purpose, for a higher being, all the time. All of my time is being used on thoughts and never enough on whatever the hell people are suppose to be thinking about. I don't understand how life doesn't hurt everyone else so much. I don't understand how people don't feel all the time, how people don't think about everything all the time.


It sounds like I'm sad and I guess I am, but I've come to accept this constant thinking, worrying and overall not knowing. I'm just frustrated. Frustrated that I haven't found my something yet and I feel like everyone around me has. That everyone around me has chosen their path in that fork in the road while I'm just staring at the sign trying to decipher letters and words that I don't even recognize.

I mean are you suppose to question your dream so much? Isn't it suppose to be just this obvious choice where you couldn't imagine your life without this unknown thing in it? I mean I guess art is that in a way, but I don't want that to be my one and only. Why does what you want to be for the rest of your life have to be just one concrete thing? Why do you even have to be a something why can't you just be?





2 comments

  1. aw, katie! it's crazy how alike we are. i feel you, i really do. so much so that i don't even know what to say except i loved this post and thanks so much for sharing. xd

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