For Real

I didn’t want to be a writer or artist…

 

I was taught…

Writers are losers.

Artists are nutcases.

 

In primary/secondary school…

It was not cool to be one of them.

 

 

Dare I read something on the bus or at the library I had… “Nerd,” on my forehead.

Dare I write a story about devils or my crushes name in my notebook, I was a “Freak.”

And then some million other things. Jist of it was — be athletic. You’ll fit right in or maybe they will be scared of you and leave you alone.

So I did that. I joined a team and took up hardcore fitness. Then all of a sudden my new names were, “Weirdo, Freak, Nerd, Pathetic, Fat, Skinny, Anorexic, Bulimic, Ugly, Disgusting, Lame, Loser, and Stupid.”

 

There goes my real dreams of being a Musician or Dancer.

Not to mention, I couldn’t exactly sing or play an instrument. I could dance though. I didn’t attend dance classes as a child. My mother couldn’t afford it. My loser father would always take her paycheck and gamble it all away in a heartbeat.

 

So what about the Writer and Artist?

Everyone now just thinks it’s a dream and I enjoy doing this because that is pretty much all I am doing. But lets be honest, I am doing this because this is now all I an do. Sure I can dance but I live in a small town in the middle of no where. I have zero connections and money to go try to pursue a career in it. I can, however, if I am lucky — teach at a local gym somewhere.

It’s not like I can add, multiple, subtract, and divide numbers — without a calculator. I was never good at Math. In fact, I did Math backwards since Elementary school — I had a teacher that specialized in that help me.

 

For Real…

My dream is, I don’t have a dream. I just want to be happy… isn’t that everyone, normal person wants?  To be happy, love, and get love in return.

 

So why is it so difficult?

Not everyone sees and feels… they think they do.

 

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