Tuesday, 22 April 2014

Fleeting Hopes and Dreams

This year, I guess (no, I know) I've spent a lot of time just ruminating on how I've seemed to reach That Age. The age that I thought I would have it all together. The age where my wildest dreams would be within my grasp and maybe, just maybe, I'd be ruling my own little corner of the world? Well, that clearly never happened and each and every day, it all seems to become more and more unlikely.

See, I've spent a good amount of my life trying to convince others that ageing and being "old" is the best. That we can become the wisest, most graceful, most self-actualized people on the planet as we age. I wholeheartedly believed that getting older was the best part of living out our lives. But now I think I'm beginning to see what others have probably been seeing for years.

This is the last page of my favourite comic series ever. I followed the family in For Better or for Worse since I was a child, only to read the last comic today and find out how the Pattersons all ended up living out perfectly ordinary, unsurprising (overall!) lives. Which is great in a way, but sort of…anti-climatic? (image)
I've always been a dreamer. I used to think everyone was exactly like that—wide eyed in a world of limitless possibilities— but eventually I came to realize that some children had already given up on their hopes before they started. I've talked to middle-schoolers who have lower expectations from life than I do. Twelve year olds have resigned themselves to following more sensible professions, promising themselves security and respect, rather than allowing their minds to wander and draw up beautiful, beautiful alternatives.

I could never do that.

But all of a sudden, it seems like the world and it's limits are closing in. I can't do many of the things I once thought were mine to pursue to my heart's desire. I know now that I won't become an Olympic figure skater, an astronaut in space, a quirky mad scientist, an adventurous storm chaser or a world renowned teenaged fashion designer (Kira Plastinina haunted me throughout my middle school years). I know most, if not all, of my old dreams seem far-fetched to most people but to me they were just about everything. Because hope and possibility were the joys of my life.

Today, I am finally faced with the reality of finding a career that does pay bills, realizing that some things really just can't happen after all. And those are some really tough truths to swallow for me. And it makes me wonder…

Does ageing mean an ever-shortening list of hopes and dreams and possibilities?


P.s. Does this count as an existentialist drama? Ugh. Sorry.


  1. I loved this! I agree. I had the wildest dreams of becoming a world famous singer, artist, even a robotic engineer! But it has just come down to a job that pays bills and is stable. I guess that is the sad truth of growing up x

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    1. *sigh* I know. I'm still determined to figure out ways to carve a creative path for myself, though! It's a matter of keeping up your hopes as best as you can and to keep trying, I guess! :)


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