My Dad. Your Dad.

Like many before, they dreamed of becoming something – a writer perhaps – several book ideas, a few manuscripts almost ready, scrawling in a notebook at every opportunity.

The ideas never fleshed out.
The manuscripts never ready.
The scrawls never good enough.

Replaced with a job they loathe.
A bubbling resentment towards their wife and kids.
A bitter loss of themself.

Mum and Dad are still together.
Unfortunately.

The kids barely visit.
Fortunately.

Earl Nightingale had a quote:

“Never give up on a dream just because of the time it will take to accomplish it. The time will pass, anyway.”

In pursuit of that dream, most will spend years in a job they hate.
A relationship of convenience.
Kids they resent.

A dream built on childhood wonder.
One carried into adulthood, hoping it makes any of it bearable.

People will flash you a double thumbs on your way up.
Cheering you on briefly gives them back their wonder.
You embody the dream they once had.

Then reality hits...

Thumbs switch to fingers.
Cheers squeezed through gritted teeth.
Now desperate for you to join them on the pile of people who gave up on theirs.

The time will pass anyway.
Chase it down a blind alley if you must.

The dream-chasing sucker writing these ramblings certainly is.

Fully aware that the pursuit of it is turning my day-to-day into a nightmare.

P.S. A child has recently elbowed her way into my life...