Could have been

I’m becoming a slave to the way the world looks through my windshield. Cheap and gray in the winter, sunwashed in the summer. Life passes in predictible monotony behind the glass… Colors fade, my imagination fails as I drive from one delivery to another.
Every car that cuts me off is a story dying in my head, every forgotten two liter of Mountain Dew (and there are plenty of those trust me) is a character unborn. I feel as if my job is destroying my creativity. I think I am growing slightly bitter because of this. Because what choice is there really? Quit so I can do what I love, but be broke as a result, or work and watch my dream slip away? But maybe that is what dreams do, slip until they become nothing more than a fond memory, shelved in the back of the mind labeled with “What I could have been…”
I press on in spite of this I guess, with my hastily written poems and short installments of stories I never really believe I’ll finish… And I have the people here to thank for that, the encouragement on this site is truly unbelieveable…
Thank you all for sticking with me, someday maybe I will dig a truly deep story from the earth in my head and if I do all of you here reading it will be a dream fulfilled.

Journal Comments

  • Niki Rossi
  • mtda
  • butchart
  • HeatherTS