Nothing works out as it’s meant too.
We lose loved ones, get fired from jobs, have our plans derailed and suffer deeply on a psychological level. Feeling as if the world is against us having no idea where to go after we pick up what’s left.
There’s a hole that gets left with each event, a new puncture in our idealistic view of the world, our bubble so-to-speak.
There’s a cliched notion that dreams are killed more than they come true. I don’t necessarily believe that.
Dreams are an idealized version of our existence, one that we marry ourselves to from inception. Yet we see through time and experience these dreams being dashed in place of something more realistic, something more meek and mundane… Something tangible that can be reached.
Becoming a realist in place of an idealist is a form of maturity. It’s not that the childhood dreams you held can’t come true. The effort required and goal posts you have to surpass to achieve your ambitions are now laid out bare and they terrify your ego.
The investments we make into these future projections of ourselves frighten us on a sub conscious level to the point of paralysis. We fail to act as a way of protecting ourselves from the feeling of defeat, failure and personal suffrage.
We see this in every position, a metaphorical dimming of lights out of fear for what could be. Trepidation that we could self-actualize and become our most ideal self. We attempt so badly to bury this with doubt, misdirection and nuance that our judgement becomes dogmatic and clouded til we take no action, move no stones and stay in the same shell for 30+ years until we’re awoken with the realization that we’re out of time.
No one was ever an overnight success, starting out is easy, continuing after being gang raped by the world with a 2×4 is what makes the successes you here about.
Put in the time, learn your craft, shut the fuck up and work!