Our Dreams End When We Stop Believing in Them

And I have stopped believing. Many times. When I let that cruel whisper become louder, that’s when my dreams crash and crumble in pieces.

What is the point of this? I would tell myself. What is the point of all the steps I take, for them to push me back, for me to have to get up again and keep walking. Sometimes I just want to stop everything altogether. I want to live a simple life, with no responsibilities, with no burden, with no pain. But even the faintest light reflecting my dream is enough to bring me up to my feet, spin me around, and fill my chest with butterflies.

It’s like falling in love with my art all over again.

I cherish every second with it, learning something new, feeding my curiosity. My eyes open like they’ve been blind for hours and discover new possibilities. How far can my dreams go? If there was no money and just desire alone. It would go on forever.

But this feeling, this enlightenment, comes in with the cycle. Watching my dream become true in my head has my soul jumping up and down like a little kid, running in a sugar rush. It comes to a point that it is too overwhelming to know where to even start. What’s realistic and what’s fantasy? Am I being hard on myself or not working hard enough? Is my dream too much?

And so my soul slows down, picks up bits and pieces of epiphanies, and works at them one at a time. I find myself escaping in video games, the closest thing to my perfect world. Finding hideouts in books, to not let myself fall into despair. In all of it, my mind is wondering if I am just weak. Unworthy. Discouraged. I keep doing little things at a time, trying so hard to hold on to the momentum. And the weight of failure feels heavier and heavier.

When will my dreams come true?

When can I wake up and draw?
When can I wake up and do what I love most?

And it feels like I am about to snap.

But if I can visualize my dream, if I can still see myself happy, I say to myself: You are just not ready yet.

You have to do better; you have to try harder.

My dreams are there waiting for me. I just haven’t gotten to it’s destination yet. There are stops in the way, important paths to take. One and another obstacle to keep testing my courage.

I am an artist; it is my truth. It is my identity and personality. I embrace it with my whole self, and I’ll find my place to fit in this world. There will be no greater passion than creating art. This is the fainting light when everything else has gone dark.

That’s what keeps my dreams alive.