The fire within

"Never give up on your dreams."

Those were the words my grandfather whispered to me the night before he passed away. I didn’t fully understand their weight back then, but they stayed with me, lingering like a melody I couldn’t forget. At the time, I was a 15-year-old kid in a small town, trapped between the limitations of my surroundings and the enormity of my dreams. But those words they felt like a key, one I would come to realize could unlock every door ahead.

I had always dreamed of becoming a professional artist. The kind that turned blank canvases into worlds of their own, where emotions danced in every brushstroke and stories came to life in vibrant colors. But in our town, where practicality trumped passion, the idea of "artist" felt almost like a myth, a dream too far-fetched to even mention out loud. Instead, people spoke of stable jobs, secure futures, and the right kind of success none of which involved paintbrushes or creativity.

Yet, something inside me burned too brightly to be snuffed out. Even as the world around me seemed to push me toward something more "realistic," the fire in my heart wouldn’t let me forget that my hands were made to create. So, I kept drawing in secret, sketching on the backs of my school notebooks, painting on scraps of cardboard when I couldn’t afford real supplies. My art wasn’t perfect, but it was mine. And every time I thought about giving up, I heard my grandfather’s voice again: "Never give up on your dreams."

But dreams aren’t always kind. They test you, challenge you, make you question everything. By the time I graduated high school, the pressure to "grow up" was suffocating. My parents pushed me toward a career that was safe, practical. They wanted me to go to business school. They believed it would secure my future, and to them, that was love making sure I never had to struggle like they did.

I tried. I really did. I enrolled in business school, forcing myself to sit through classes that felt like I was suffocating under a blanket of boredom. I watched the colors drain from my world, replaced by grey textbooks and monotonous lectures. But no matter how hard I tried to fit into that life, I couldn't forget what my heart truly wanted.

It wasn’t until my second year that everything changed. One night, I was walking home from a late class, the weight of my future pressing heavy on my shoulders. I passed by a small art studio, its lights still glowing in the dark. Inside, I saw a group of people artists covered in paint, laughing, lost in their work. I stopped in my tracks, staring through the glass. They were free, alive, exactly what I wanted to be. My chest tightened with a mix of longing and pain.

That was the moment I realized I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t keep living someone else’s dream. I walked into that studio the next day and signed up for a class. It was a small step, but it was the first real step I’d taken toward my own happiness in years.

Of course, it wasn’t easy. My parents were disappointed. My friends thought I was throwing away my future. Even I had doubts some days, wondering if I was chasing something impossible. But every time I touched a paintbrush, I felt the world open up again. Slowly, opportunities began to come small ones at first. A local art fair, a commissioned piece for a friend, then a gallery took interest in one of my paintings.

It was five years after that fateful walk past the studio that I held my first solo exhibition. As I stood in the gallery, surrounded by the colors and shapes that had once lived only in my imagination, I realized something: dreams don’t come easy, but they’re worth every sacrifice, every struggle.

My grandfather’s words echoed in my mind that night: "Never give up on your dreams." And I hadn’t. I had fought for them, nurtured them in the dark, and now they were finally coming to life. I knew then that the fire inside me would never go out not as long as I kept painting, kept believing, kept dreaming.

And neither should you. No matter how hard the road gets, no matter how impossible it seems, never give up on your dreams. Because they are the truest, most beautiful part of who you are. And when you finally see them come to life, you’ll realize they were worth everything.