No, the reason I write on this blog is for myself...mostly. I have so much of my writing locked up inside my head and inside my notebooks, and though sometimes some of it does make it out somehow, this blog is primarily here because sometimes it's nice to be heard. It's just easier to talk to my screen than to most people...
Anyway, having said that, I am writing here today because I have a decision to make. I'm pretty sure I already know what conclusion I will come to, cause hey, I've known myself all my life, I know there's only one option for me. But I'm still a little scared. I still have second thoughts. I still have a little doubt. I need to talk myself into this for a little while first.
Now that I've danced around the issue for long enough, I will finally get to my point.
I like to tell stories.
In fact, all I've ever wanted is to tell stories.
And, believe me, I cannot stress enough how ridiculous confessing that makes me feel! What kind of eighteen year old is stuck in such a childish dream! I laugh at myself sometimes!
But then there are those moments when I give in to the doubt. There are those moments when I start to think "realistically," and honestly, I hate those moments. In those moments I don't feel like myself. In those moments, I feel lost. I feel purposeless. I really really hate those moments.
But, as much as those moments scare me, there's one thing that scares me more, and that's living in that reality.
I'm a dreamer. I admit it. I have my head in the clouds. Who cares!
I confess that this idea is insane! I know I'm out of my mind! Who can make a living off of telling stories, right?!
But I don't care! I don't care if I struggle all my life to no avail! At least I'll have my purpose. Cause the world can take my money and my confidence. It can take my health, my home and all I care for. But the world can never take away my purpose.
I confess that when I went off to University, I hesitated. I remember for weeks in advance there was this little nagging worry in my head that wondered if the reality of University would beat this dream out of me. Sure, it's easier to dream when I'm sitting in my bedroom in the house I've lived in for most of my life. I'm comfortable there! It's easy to dream from the sidelines! But to act, now that's another thing entirely. To act takes courage, and dedication and a whole lot of faith. Oh, so much faith.
Now I'm here, miles away from my comfort zone, and you know what, I'm not scared anymore. Not of this. This doesn't scare me anymore. What scares me is not even trying. What scares me is not fighting hard enough.
When I think about quitting, when I consider even for a moment turning to a more particle lifestyle, I feel dead inside. I feel my heart sink and, honestly, I feel like it robs me of my soul.
I have to do this. There is no other way. I don't want to waste my life. I don't want to die in regret. Not doing this is the only thing that could ever scare me.
And now here I am once again. Making the same decision I've made time and time again.
I want to tell stories.
I will tell stories.
How crazy does that make me?
Photo Credit goes to Heinrich Nikel Photography.