My Dream

I have always been happy and comfortable when creating. It is my comfort, my safety, and all I ever want to do. As I pour my hopes and dreams into this little black book, I know that feeling may never change. The drawing slowly manifests on the page, taking my very soul with it. For not only do I want this piece to surpass all I have done before, but I need it to surpass what all others have done before. Or, at the very least, surpass all my competition in this art contest. After all, this could be an extraordinarily important step in making my life my own and securing the future that I want.

My family does not think any creative field was a valid career path, so studying any sort of art is completely out of the question. Despite this, I let my imaginative passion explosively augment to the point where I knew I wouldn’t be truly happy doing anything else. I tried to bring up art when it was time for me to go off to school, but they pressured me emotionally and financially to turn away from my happiness. They made me believe I would be utterly alone if I chose what I loved, and that horrified me. I didn’t know how to argue or what else I could do, so I caved.

Sure my parents are quite proud of and love to brag about my engineering studies, but I am completely downtrodden by it. I trudge through classes and homework, just dreaming of what new piece of art I would create if could. Luckily, I realized a bit ago that my dream future will not leave me in isolation, but would rather leave me without those that fill me with doubt and prohibit me from pursuing my passion. I need to become completely independent and self-reliant.

The very first step is being financially stable. I work part time while still going to school, which is a great way to gain more independence. However, minimum wage doesn't exactly offer me the luxury of switching my major and explaining to my parents that I am going to pursue exactly what I told them I wanted. I’m not even being creative anymore, all my time is consumed by work and school. At this point, the only way I would have time to create is if I quit my job, which I would only do if I suddenly came into a rather large lump sum of money.

Five thousand dollars is the winning prize for the art contest. This amount plus my savings from years of working, would give me about a year. A year to live completely free of any dream that is

not my own; a year to study what I want; a year to work on what I need; a year of time. I know that I won’t necessarily achieve my dream in a year, but I would finally have time to pursue it. With time I could build my portfolio, work on commission, find more contests to enter, and find a job that I actually want.

All of these thoughts are jumbling in my mind and transferring to the paper as I draw. Then, I simply finish it and peer down with an overwhelming sense of glee. I am overall proud of it as I send it off to be judged. I wait anxiously for the results and spend my nights dreaming of all that I would do if I were to win. I try to restrict my imagination and remind myself that I may not win, but I simply can't restrain myself. I am proud of what I made and, more than that, I am confident in it. So when the day finally comes, I go straight to the results.

As I stare at my screen, I feel all those nights of belief and days of waiting with a far greater intensity. This only makes the blow much more debilitating when I see the results. I lost. I knew this was a possibility, I always knew; but I never could bring myself to fully realize this. Now I have to, it is my reality. Tears form as I look at the winning submission with agony. Honestly though, I shouldn't cry, they deserve the win. Their skills are simply far superior to mine.

I spend the day in eternal numbness, not knowing how to feel. Am I wrong to think I could do this and is my family right? Do I overestimate my own skill? Am I untalented? These questions are ever present in my life, but I used to think the answer was “No.” Another thing I am wrong about apparently. However, I just can't accept that the answer was always “Yes.”

I contemplate and torture myself with the view of the winning submission. Of course I couldn't beat that drawing, I was never good enough and never will be. The tears flow more rapidly as I realize this sad fact. When I calm down I return to my submission. I half smile as I remember all I thought as I crafted, the soul I dumped into it, the nights I spent dreaming it was good enough, and the confidence I felt in it. As I scan the original, that confidence gets a resurgence. I haven't reached my full potential yet, and I refuse to keep my skills stagnant. I will work harder and don't stop, even if it means neglecting sleep. I get home from work and stay up doing all I can until my eyes bleed. I want this so badly and I do what I can to achieve it.

I've been at it for a while now, I'm constantly tired, but I'm happy when I get home from work. It's when I can finally enjoy what I'm doing. I trudge through the day, just to get to this time of happiness. Though, when I doubt myself, I return to my old submission. The very thing that left me so distraught is now what keeps me going and keeps me happy.

Then one day I am particularly doubtful, so I stare intently at the drawing. I see all I dream of, all that went into this drawing, and I see it all becoming a reality. My eyes are barely open when I feel this and I know I have to make it a reality. As I do, I get a notification on my phone. I ignore it to focus on my work, but that notification is my work. It is a bank statement, I have twenty thousand more dollars in my account. It is time that I actually get to work.