Dream

Fear. Is there anything more debilitating? I have let fear have far too much control of my life. It has caused me great pain. Lost opportunities. Potential untapped. It makes me yell. It makes me cry. It makes me shut down and not want to say a word. It makes me act like a control freak. It makes me appear to be a flake. Confused. Unsure. Sending mixed messages. It’s ruled much of my life. Right now I’m afraid I’ll never make a decent living doing anything worth a damn. I don’t like my career. It pays the bills, but I yearn for something more. Something far greater. I can get all manic sounding with it. I want to leave my mark on this world. Do something great. Be something great. Buddha? Just a man. Jesus? Just a man. Einstein. A man. Shayna. A man (well, a woman). I have never given up on my dreams of being absolutely memorable. Immortal. Leaving a legacy. Making an impact far greater than anyone could imagine. I still believe. When people poo poo me, or tell me I’m being unrealistic, I feel sorry for them. For letting dreams die, it’s a sad fate indeed. I’m not ready for my dreams to die. Last week I started down this road with my fiancé, and he suggested that perhaps I needed to see a psychiatrist. Maybe I need medication again. Fear. My god, the fear. Oh no – is he one of them??? I felt a tinge of insanity creep in. I remembered feeling like people were “the enemy” because they were part of this group of people trying to suppress my dreams, the beautiful mania, the endless possibilities of my life. They told me to give it up. To live in their world of sadness and despair. Be a victim of the world. Why? Why on earth would I want to be like everyone else? There are great people in this world, living impossible dreams. I want to be one of them. My fear is that if I express my desire for greatness I will be taken away, locked up, drugged and told I’m delusional. I’m scared. I’m afraid of voicing my truth and being told I’m insane. Is it crazy to believe in the beauty of the world? Is it crazy to think I could be one of the few that actually live their dreams and love their life? I think I’d rather not exist than exist in a world where dreams are dead, where paychecks are all that matter. Where fear thrives and it hurts to be alive. I want to live the life I’ve always dreamed of. Explore the world. Make a difference. Feel joy and love. Feed the creative energy. Make an impact. My mission is to help others awaken, but how can I wake them up if I’m asleep? I need to find a way to follow my dreams and speak my truth without being told I’m crazy and need medication. That is my biggest fear, my freedom being taken away from me because I have dreams. I’m not ready to give up on my dreams.