One question that’s been at the top of my head everyday is, “Should I give up on my dreams?”. I don’t say this from a place of despondency. Well actually I guess I am, it is not because I don’t believe in myself. No quite the opposite, it is the world I do not have much faith in. We are living under fascism and to be honest it feels like I’m on borrowed time. Anxiously waiting for the clock to strike 12 and like Cinderella I will revert back into my rags. Only this time instead of rags I fear it will be chains like the ones my ancestors were forced into. As much as I try to find balance in the good and bad in life it is a pressing thought. The world we way we know is collapsing. The dreams I had of what I wanted my adult life to look like have no foundation to take root and grow. But maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be.

If I say I come from a generation that wants our future to be different than that of the one the boomers reveled in. Then wouldn’t that mean that yes I would have to give up on the dreams that were given to me by the crooked system. The days I yearn to be financially wealthy must be abandoned, as it is these fantasies that got us into this mess and stuck working 9-5’s. Everyday that I look at my bank account it is keeps declining, never growing. The hopes of that beautiful multi-storied house will not be manifested. My Sex and The City fantasy will not come to life in the way I envisioned. To achieve the “American Dream” comes at cost, those who are at the bottom will be pushed further down, trees will never to grow, and the animal sounds we wake up to will cease. Leaving us only with the silence of our greed. It is for the best I let it go of what I used to chase in and believe. As I do long for our existence to work with and benefit Mother Earth.

It is because of this that I am in mourning, I spent years of my adolescent working and pushing myself to achieve a standard of being. The late nights I stayed up cramming to make it on time for my early morning shift. Or the countless weeks of pushing my mind and body way past their breaking point leaves me to think. What was the point of it all? There is an answer though, somewhere. However, I can’t see it. Not through the tears I’ve been crying and the cloudiness of juvenescence. As it is the classic cliche when they say you will learn things as you come of age. Having only a few years living as an adult, I am limited to what I know.

What I do know is that everything is temporary, just like the clouds in the sky move to let the Sun shine. Yes for now I am sad that I will never achieve the things I have always dreamed of being. That sadness will subside one day. Who knows by the time I’m in my 30’s I will thank myself and realize it was all worth it. I wish that day would come now and I could skip this part. But like another cliche , it is not about the end it is about the quest.

It still is frustrating as I didn’t ask for this. None of us did, all we can do is play the cards we were dealt with. And like any game, if we don’t win on the first round then all that’s left is to try and try again. Different methods every time until we find the one that eventually feels right. Maybe the lesson I’m supposed to learn is to re-imagine what my dreams look like. Maybe instead of Sex and The City, it’s Sex and The Village. Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue but it’s a work in progress .

So yes my dreams are dead, but death is just a transformation into a different state of being. The version of what they were has to die for a new one to reborn. Dreams that work with and for the community is being conceptualized. I don’t know entirely what that looks like but I guess that’s the whole point of this journey.