To Dream

“Now there is a self conscious man, he fixes his shirt collar, using his shadow like a mirror.”

It is times like these that make talented Sailors. Rough seas. The harder the wind blows the stronger you get. I had nightmares about days like this. During the day all I saw was this nightmare that life would be as it is now. And at night I would dream of better. Times like this make me wish I were still dreaming. Times like this make me want to cry myself to sleep just so I can dream. But then the nightmare always wakes me.

I want to write of better things, but I am an artist I can only write what I know. I know of dreams. Of love and life. Dreams to keep you up all night, waiting hoping for them to come true.

Why does the artist live nightmare before dream?
Better than dream first then nightmare?

I never knew how much appreciation I would have from a half hours rest on an old couch. When you don’t know where or how you will sleep next you start to appreciate every little second of comfortable sleep you are getting. I haven’t slept in a bed in…long enough time for me not to remember. I’ve slept on the pavement before I slept on a couch. And the thought of a night spent under the stars is appalling. It isn’t always the safest. I always found it humorous to see bums in hand me down suits. I feel like them now. I walk around in suits but I have no closet to hang them. No money in the pockets, no office to return to.

I feel so old because all the days seem long. Nothing about this life I live is fast. It’s a slow process. All your speed must be used for adaptation to the new situation. A new life. It’s funny, I sit on the brink of either great success or great ruin. And since I am stubborn enough to keep writing I hope that others may learn from either.

Sometimes when I want to think about killing myself, I trick myself into believing I am too hard on myself. But everyone is hard on me. Their reasons all the same. “We expect great things out of you.” If this life is supposed to be so great then why do I think so much about taking it? If only so I won’t become a failure.

I can’t be a failure…
Or
I can not become a failure!

To be or not to be that is the question. People’s lives have been where I am right now. Worse. They lived to tell about it. The only reason I know they lived is because they were once like me and made it through to tell us about it. To tell us, others, that all hope is not lost and dreams do come true. I sit here in purgatory, the dangerous middle ground between success and failure. These choices made here will decide where I spend my years. Either telling passerby’s how I could have been something or how I became that something.

To dream or not to dream. That sir is the question. Whether it is nobler in ones mind to suffer the slings and arrows life throws at dreams and live to see them awaken or wake to life’s harsh realties