I see a man chasing a dream that awakens his soul.
This man is alive! He is alive and he is doing what he loves, not what others tell him to love. Oh, how it must feel to be alive.
“You’re going!” It commands. “B-b-but,” I stammer.
“This is right for you. This will make you successful,” It tells me.
“But what if I don’t want to,” I challenge.
“It doesn’t matter what you want,” It replies.
“It doesn’t matter what you want.” The words still linger. It doesn’t matter what I want, I tell myself. It does not matter what I want. “Okay,” I tell It, “you win.” It, having won the argument this time, retreats proudly back to it’s place. I, on the other hand, having, once again, succumbed to It’s persuasion, retreat to my chamber where I shamefully plunge further and further into a state of submission.
After what seems like hours, the door of my chamber is forcefully thrust open—interrupting my ongoing brooding. “WHAT?” I shout.
My sister, knowing how to handle my attitude, replies, “Wha…