Monologue #3

Digital StillCamera
FreeImages.com/Johanna Ljungblom.

Don’t they know I can’t? The thought of it decimates my heart, the dread kills my spirit.

Dreams are meant to lift and inspire but they don’t award me such a luxury. I avoid dreams because they represent what I will never be for I don’t feel they come true. I am afraid of my thoughts, I don’t want to acknowledge them. It’s not the success or the failure I fear, but the voices that told me to become real, the voices that told me to get back to reality; they murder dreams.

Now, my dreams are scattered in hiding; afraid; alone; weakened; hurt. I look for them now; they don’t come to me anymore. I was a dreamer but I grew up. Did I kill my dreams myself? Did I wield that dagger that destroyed those worlds? Great people talk of great dreams and great dares, but I am small. Surely I will not match the likes of kings, philosophers, explorers, creators… I don’t have it in me, do I?

I am not doubtful of my success; I am not even sure of my failure. I am uncertain about myself, this world and everything else. I do not have the slightest idea how this world is run…

This world is a parody. Confident fools and timid talents; bold, self-assured clowns and humble, submissive, hidden abilities. Noble criminals and corrupt leaders; evil preachers and holy sinners. Selfish riches and poor honesty. Lack of virtue, fairness, honor, integrity and dominance of greed, lack, hate and division. All of the fake personalities and online personas – how are we supposed to know who and what is real? All the contacts that are used and abused, all the feeble friendships, all the lies.

And we are told to rise above all that and achieve ultimate freedom, ever-lasting greatness. We regret more the things we didn’t do than the ones we did. So, try, is what they tell me. But ‘try’ is the default response that, although personally encourages, still whispers ‘get real’.

If a single thought can decimate the legions, what do you do? Do you persevere? Why should I fight when I don’t know what I’m fighting for? A soldier without a mission, a missionary without a purpose, a clown without a mask…

Why would you not kneel before those voices, that tell the ‘truth’?

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