In fact, i've never had a big dream. An expensive dream like some people. Take my sister for example. She always dreamed of buying a cool car, build a big house. And her appetite is always hard to please. I've never wanted a big car. Never have i wanted a big house. In fact, the only house i've ever dreamed of was a small shack with a garden. And that's it.
In my life, the only ambition i had was to be a cabin crew. ~.~ Of course that'd never come true. And then, when i was in secondary school, i stood out as a writer amongst friends. People requested me to write everyday and people were sharing my writing books like a best-seller. I was too naive to notice my talent. And my parents were too naive too i guess, to support me to write more.
But still i continue dreaming about story lines. And at the same time, my love for English grew deeper and deeper. So, i began channeling my art into English essays. Started from there, my teacher gave a lot of attentions to me.
That's how i started dreaming of becoming an English teacher.
But when i finished school, i don't know what kind of program should i choose. What university should i go. My parents didn't know how to help. And i didn't know even more.
I know i shouldn't blame my parents. But when i think back of those days. I can't help myself from blaming them for all the things happened to me. I continue living life in a wrong path and i don't know how to correct them. I'm walking in a big black tunnel and i have never saw a glimpse of light anywhere. It's all pitch dark.
Last year, i think i should start writing again. So i finished two manuscripts. I am still in a middle of writing one more. But my mother don't like what i'm doing. She don't like everything i do.
How can i do things she don't like? It's even hard to explain to her. That's why i lied to her. I know it's easier to say the truth. But the truth would be harder. It's too ugly and hideous. She can't take it.
Now, whenever i went home, i never felt like i went 'home'. It's just a place i visit. It's not where i belong. The room is too messed up. It's upside down. My bed had become a place to pile things up. And i don't know where to start. What to dream. What to do. Where should i place my laptop so i could think of something alone. So i could start writing a line or two. NO. There is absolutely no place for me. Their acts, their dialogues. I cannot hear them. They're so thorny that i feel like i want to pack up and run away right in that second!
But of course i waved goodbye anyway. I found comfort in wandering off. I took off and decided it's no longer a home for me.
I doubt my mother. What does she want from me? Doesn't she want to see me happy? What is she thinking? She don't like me writing. She wants me to be a teacher. But i've gone too far away from being a teacher. So what does she want me to do? She just don't get it. She never tried to understand. I cannot work. I can't serve people. I don't like it. And i'm just that kind of person who cannot do things i hate. Does she has any idea how many pressures she'd inject into my brain?
In conclusion. I'm not a happy person. I'm suicidal. Sick. No breathing creatures on this earth know what i had in my mind. What i think of when i let my thoughts take a drift. No one knows that i have a dream every night. The same dream. Over and over. Every. Single. Night. Like a psychopath.
If i lay in my bed, i cannot enjoy the softness of the pillow. I cannot . It's been so long since the last time i enjoy life. I've even forgotten how it feels like to see a clear sky. How it feels like to have a cool breeze sweeping up my cheeks. And how it feels like to live with a dream.
"All that I have is a river
The river is always my home
Lord, take me away
For I just cannot stay
Or I’ll sink in my skin and my bones
The water sustains me without even trying
The water can’t drown me, I’m done
With my dying ."
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