I always feel like I’m nearing the cusp of some great idea, something that could change the world—or at least one person’s world, and everything that means. I’m one door away from seeing what I was purposed for, but I’m always standing outside the door, fist raised to knock but as silent as my tongue remains.
After long hard days I still manage to find inspiration. But what’s the use of having it, if you have no one to share it with? Wrong. I have people—family, friends, my boyfriend, people I have yet to meet. But when there’s a colorful world in your head, and not enough words in your vocabulary to give them life in conversation, it gets lonely really quick.
Sometimes I feel like I’m at university just to be at university, that I’ve forsaken my true passions in an effort to conform. I know what I’m doing is important, and I’m nearly to the end, but not knowing how to apply what I’ve learned in terms of a future career is daunting, to say the least. There’s still music in my heart, waken up every so often to remind me of the joy I used to feel for the art. I still feel it to some extent, but the idea of restricting talent with the vice of academic study kills the dream quicker than it fuels it.