The other day I read the advertising of a new self-help book published that talked about the behaviour of people that accomplished their dreams. And searching the Internet I'm amazed that there are almost 3 million pages with advice, rules, steps to follow and even courses to learn how to get the dreams.
I could do it, I don't know if because my dream was modest or because I looked for something concrete, the thing is that I could transform it in reality. It wasn't easy, logically, it took me many years, be tenacious, search and take advantage of every single opportunity that could be possible; and I must confess that many times I felt I would never accomplished that it was too difficult... but life smiled at me and I could get what many people never have the chance.
My dream was about being able to work of what I like, transform my passion in a source of incomes, do of my hobby my profession. That my source of joy be my job that I never have to stress or felt unenthusiastic, simply because I love this activity and this environment. How many people do you know that have got this in life? I got it, I suppose that now I could write some cheap psychology book like the one I was reading the advert.
I was happy, yes, but my happiness last only what a sigh last. I met someone that turn the world upside down, someone that made me feel completely new emotions that dazzled me like never have happened before. Someone that lied to me that deceived me and betrayed me stealing the possibility of keeping on doing reality my dream of all my life. I don't know if he did it on purpose, I can't believe that there are people such sadistic or evil, I simply think he just stabbed me in the heart without notice... but he later sank it without remorse.
So I passed nonstop from happiness of walking over the waters to sadness of want to drown in them in only just seven months. I still believe that I could write that shoddy self-help book.
I know that nobody can't take me away what I have lived, but also nothing takes away the bitterness of feeling that be contented with this it's too very little.
I don't remember feeling sad like this never before as now. I fought all my life to achieve this dream, so many sacrifices, so much time, everything for nothing and I never thought be prepared to defend it if I was stolen or to lose it. I'm not sure if I would have chosen never accomplished at all, rather than living this feeling of plunder.
Many times I thought about it. I thought that was it that was useless to go on that if I had accomplished what I always believed was what I have to do and be in my life, was pointless to continue with an existence empty of dreams and purposes. Many times I felt like a load, a useless ballast that only bothers... I still don't know quite well why I didn't do anything about it yet. I think that if I didn't go away was due to respect for my family and because I love life a lot... but I didn't lack desires.
I spend all the time telling to everybody that I'm trying to pursue another dream, but actually I feel that now I'm not trying to fulfill another dream, but I'm running away frightened of this sadness that breaks my soul in two.
I carry on me the worst of the desolation... I feel I didn't lose the dream that always guided my life, but that I was stolen and I couldn't defend it. And I don't know how to get rid of this repugnant sensation that only a revenge equally painful could let me free.
I have converted myself into an expert in the art of dissimulate my tears in front of everybody, of pretending smiles and saying that everything is alright. During the week I take up to the extreme that of "put the batteries" on the studding using it like a drug to avoid think, to not remember what slipped away from my hands, to not feel the lost... But on the weekends, I can't bear my soul.
I want to stop crying every night, I want to leave behind this sadness, I want to feel like jumping again... I want, but I can't. Could it be that if I write a self-help fourth class psychology book it will help me survive this?