I would like to believe that I’m on the right path. That there is some guidance in this universe and that everything that I’m doing is in some way right, and even if it isn’t, it’ll all work itself out. I will work it all out. 

Right now I’m in a fairly stable job. Part time with the possibility for full time, and generally a lot of room for growth. And I like this comfort of being financially stable. My middle-class upbringing has made me a certain way and it’s very difficult to unlearn certain aspects of this lifestyle. But oh, the bourgeois guilt. 

Sometimes I lie in bed at night, unable to fall asleep because I’m constantly struck by anxiety; I am terrified about my life choices. What am I doing right now? Who am I trying to please? And most importantly, why can’t I seem to change? 

Maybe a greater effort needs to be put forth. 

The goal at the time being is to stick with this job as a way to support myself while I pursue my writing and photography on the side. Someone said to me that it’s no good to have a Plan A and a Plan B, because every plan should be Plan A. As great advice as that is, for some of us it’s just not practical. When you have people relying on you, when the force of culture and family weigh in heavy on your shoulders, the more difficult it is to break from it because once you do, once you decide to live your life the way you want, you become selfish, arrogant, and ungrateful. 

Maybe I just care too much about what my family thinks of me. And maybe I care too much about what my mother’s friends think about her and her gay son who still lives at home. 

Maybe it all has to do with shame. 

***

Sometimes I think dreamers have it the hardest. Because to be a real dreamer you really have to have no shame. You have to be unbelievably resilient against all of the criticism directed towards dreamers, also known in some circles as freeloaders, hippies, and “artists”. Some dreamers live out and proud, while others are a little more hesitant to reveal their dreams to others. Scared, because dreamers are silly and to have a dream is obviously something to be embarrassed about (How dare you not be practical! We are in an economic crisis!). But what sucks most of all are the dreamers who dream with no action, their feet cemented into the ground, out of fear. 

My mind sometimes drifts back into history and I think about everyone who has ever had to claw their way through life just to survive—women, people of colour, and queers, just to name a few. Time and time again, some asshole will try to bring them down. But I’ve learned that to have a dream and to fight for it is to guarantee your survival. Maybe not your physical body, but your ideas, your convictions and your hopes—they live on in someone else. Because dreamers don’t stand still.

They’re moving and shaking and changing. They’re creating, dancing, making horrible mistakes and rising from the ashes. Always loving the hardest. Always working towards making the best happen. Turning nothing into something.

Straw into gold.