We cry sometimes because the world beats you down with moments of hopelessness. When you've been rejected your junior year of prom. When you realize you can't get good grades in everything. When you realize your photography skills are not professional enough. When you realize you've abandon your dreams for a "job."
We've forgotten the person we were suppose to be.
Majority of our parents teach us to follow simple formula: get good grades, go to college, find a career or job that will make you money. The factor of happiness only seems to be a bonus.
And it's unfortunate that only a small percentage achieve a career that makes money and makes you genuinely happy. Not the monetary happiness of purchasing items because you can afford it but the happiness of fulfillment. The happiness of doing something you are proud to have accomplished.
It's also depressing to realize you are one of those that buried your dreams under the floorboards until you forget. However, it won't let you forget - constantly beating like a heart to remind you it's still there.
Until it realizes that studying the pattern of woodgrain is driving it insane. It misses the light. It misses the feeling of trying. It misses being a part of you. So starts beating at a faster, more fearful pace; eventually driving you insane.
Why can't it to just go wherever dreams go to die?
Instead you can only cry because it seems like the only response. Leaving you at your most vulnerable and most clairvoyant.
It won't go away until you take action and rip the floorboards apart to find out there's nothing there.
The noise came from your own beating heart; beating frantically at the thought of "what if?"
What if I stay where I am, chugging along like a train on a route remains the same day in, day out? What if I'm not good enough? What if I find something else and I still won't be happy? What if I don't even try? What if I just give up?
Staring at the black nothingness of the floor you confess to yourself:
Only you can make a decision, so what will it be?
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