Graveyard of Dreams

I am a murderer.

My hands are sullied with the blood of aborted dreams.

Lately, I’ve been seeing people, not in the “I see what you’re wearing” kind of way. I see the way they walk, the way they talk, the exhaustion they carry in each step they take. They don’t see it, but I do. I wonder what dreams they once had, what vision they once aspired to. Did they intend to change the world? Or is it something as simple as living this town? Is the life they are living now the one they dreamt of when they were young? Will their young self be happy with what they are now?

To me, these people aren’t just people, they are graveyard of dreams. And I saw myself in them.

I don’t fear my becoming. I’ve fantasized enough about it to know it’s the reason for my existence. I do not fear I’ll fail, but rather what will become  of me, what  my eventual and inevitable success will mean for me. I mean, people who end up being bad are those who spend their entire life trying to be good.

Success is seductive, just like a sinful, seductive mistress and I doubt if I have enough to keep her with me forever. What if she eventually comes to me but only for a fleeting moment, like a flash in the pan? What would I do then? Go back to the life of mediocrity I’ve always lived?

This will be the first time that I am writing and publishing something that isn’t some sort of faux philosophical thoughts or motivational.  I intend not to edit this, nor any of my future letters, this is my stupid era, isn’t it? I want to know the worst thing that will happen if my works are less than perfect and I fail in my future endeavors. Do I fall down and break my neck? Will my brain implode out of its own accord? Would there be a crowd outside my windows with torched sticks for me to come out screaming “Come out, you fool, why would you think you’re different and can do much more than we can ever think of?” Or would I lose the admiration and trust of many who would think: “What a promising boy he used to be, until he decided to fly into the sun?”.

I want to know what will happen if my ideas are less than marvelous as they seem to me.

I’ve always preferred to be the always dreaming visionary and the none writing writer. Seems easier that way, no one can judge what is only in my head. And in that way, I’ll always remain perfect and project the image of perfection. Always leaving you to wonder what else I’m working on. Meanwhile I’m tormented with the idea of making a significant come back with a masterpiece to justify my absence.

There’s no greater suffering than knowing only you have the power to change your life and yet, as years go by, you do nothing, hoping for some mysterious power to change everything for you. And that’s when you’ll realize that you already become one of those people, walking home with your shoulders slouched with the weight of a life you never lived, and a drink in your hand to numb your mind to the pain of regrets. You walk home, with the exhaustion in your steps bearing the heaviness of the “What if” thoughts running around in your head.

 There’s blood on your hands, and you’re finally a graveyard of dreams.

I do not intend that for myself. I will be all that I can be. Take all of my chances and embarrass myself in front of the world. Let them see my works and be appalled by my level of incompetence. Let them hear the decisions I make and be mortified at my great show of lackluster thinking. I’ll be comfortable producing and publishing bad works. In fact, this will be the first of many you’ll be seeing here. I will create, not minding the bareness of my creations and the inelegance they carry with them. I would never doubt the potential of my creations and wonder if the world will love them. Concerned that they will not be inspired by the harmonization of my thoughts with reason. I WILL NOT SUFFER THAT PAIN AGAIN.

I will do everything, never to be recognized as “The Boy Who Was Promising”, but rather “The Boy Who Is Infinite”.

                                                                                                                           Aexande🥀.

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