What happens to us?
So I'm going through all my old online journals and saving them on a word file just incase Deadjournal decides to bite the dust. As I read through them, I take quite the surreal look at person that used to be me. I was so optimistic. So full of energy and hope.
What happens to us? What causes us to stop believing we can do anything?
I refuse to accept the commonly regurgitated answer: we grow up. That's a load of shit. There is no real difference between young and old. We only start changing because we CHOOSE to. I always knew that my dream of being a writer would take a lot of hard work. It's a competitive, unstable market with a lot more losers than winners, but it's what I wanted to do. I told myself, "you'll do whatever it takes and that's that!" Four and a half years later, I drown myself in hesitation and push my most cherished passion out of reach. My conception of the difficulties one faces when trying to become a professional writer has not changed. It is I who have changed.
Was it just naivety the whole time? No, not at all. I just chose--made the conscious, cowardly choice--to give up. You're right, world, it's too hard. It's too...unrealistic. I need a real job. I should become a doctor.
This May I will graduate from Wayne State University with my degree in Philosophy. And I will get full-time job. But I'm also going to make another choice. It's tempting to say that I'm gonna be the "old" Chris, but technically, I was younger back then. I'm gonna be the REAL Chris, the Chris without fear.
What happens to us? What causes us to stop believing we can do anything?
I refuse to accept the commonly regurgitated answer: we grow up. That's a load of shit. There is no real difference between young and old. We only start changing because we CHOOSE to. I always knew that my dream of being a writer would take a lot of hard work. It's a competitive, unstable market with a lot more losers than winners, but it's what I wanted to do. I told myself, "you'll do whatever it takes and that's that!" Four and a half years later, I drown myself in hesitation and push my most cherished passion out of reach. My conception of the difficulties one faces when trying to become a professional writer has not changed. It is I who have changed.
Was it just naivety the whole time? No, not at all. I just chose--made the conscious, cowardly choice--to give up. You're right, world, it's too hard. It's too...unrealistic. I need a real job. I should become a doctor.
This May I will graduate from Wayne State University with my degree in Philosophy. And I will get full-time job. But I'm also going to make another choice. It's tempting to say that I'm gonna be the "old" Chris, but technically, I was younger back then. I'm gonna be the REAL Chris, the Chris without fear.