When I was six years old I would draw pictures on sheets of printer paper, staple them together, and call myself an author. It was harmless enough and my mother smiled because of the creative side I could show off from such a young age. Until I told her that I wanted to write books for a living. She frowned, turned to look at me, and told me that being an author was probably never going to work. I thought that when I grew big and strong that would be my purpose. To make others smile through my words. I didn’t ever stop writing though. I never stopped and no matter what anyone told me I kept going.

When I would sing in the car everyday on the way home my older brother would scold me and tell me I needed to stop. I would try mimicking the beautiful voices in hope one day I would sound just as great as they did. I sadly never met that dream, because everyday I was met with opposition and despite my desperate attempts I felt belittled, I was mocked, and my purpose for singing so often was completely gone. Why should I sing when all I did was make everyone else unhappy? So I stopped singing. I stopped singing and to this day I regret it.

When I was eight i remember painting snowman and other various things. If my purpose was to let my creative side out through song, then it would be through a paintbrush. Right? I painted everyday. I painted bugs, snowmen, and whatever I could think of. I showed my mom and just like my writing, she told me chances of being what I want to be is slim to none. Being a painter would cause me to constantly be broke and she advised me to find another dream. Unlike my writing I stopped. I stopped getting better. I stopped trying and that’s what killed me. Never stop doing what you love. Never. I should have kept going because painting made me happy. Painting was an outlet for my emotions and feelings I should have never gotten rid of.

I lost myself in the words and thoughts of others around me. It took me nineteen years to realize what anyone thinks of what I do doesn’t matter. It’s making me happy. I am happy. And that’s all that should matter. That’s all thats going to matter.

That I’m happy.

4 thoughts on “Goals

  1. Isn’t it sad we understand how crippling those negative words can be only after we’ve decided to take them to heart? I do hope you find your drawing hands and your singing voice once more. And share often!!!! Perhaps you have, I’ve only just now found your blog and this single post…


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