The cynical optimist

I’ve been walking far too long, my head held high above the clouds. The fog, the smog, the poison gas is rising…

I’m no longer walking, but sprinting towards a crossroads and I’ll have to make a decision sooner than I’d like. Is a writing career sustainable? Do I have the talent or luck to make it so? Or Do I let dreams be dreams for family and life’s sake?

I look around for examples and see family member after family member who do not do what they love and it’s not for the reason of being talentless in their dreams, but because bills must be paid and families must be fed.

Is life designed so dreams can only be dreams? Realists see the world as it is, they have no false hopes. Dreamers see the world for what it COULD be. And me? I have the heart of a dreamer and the brain of a realist, the two battle endlessly, and I get days like today. Where it feels impossible…where it feels like I should give in and let dreams fly. But longing to go for it, take the dive, fly to the sun…

I really don’t know what I’m going to do, is a leap of faith a worthwhile chance? Do I go for broke?Is flying to close to the sun a fate worse then never trying?

I have no answers, and too many decisions to make but I guess it all comes down to what I want to listen to.. a dreamer’s heart or a realist’s brain, or is their a way to reconcile the two?