Dream Out Loud
I’m a teenager, in that awkward adolescence where honestly, I hadn’t choose a path in life yet. I read The Secret and toyed with that idea mixed with my Buddhist beliefs.
It wasn’t until about a year later that adversity hit me like a rock.
I’m a writer, as you may already know from this brutal, honest text, and had started – well, actually, I’ve always written and read the greats and wanted to be someone great – to dream. Not dream light floaty dreams that have little to no meaning… I dreamed BIG. I dreamed that impossible out of reach dream. You see, reader, I fought back against my Dad’s Indian culture. Indian culture itself never was a bad thing to me; it consisted of what I thought were mainly empty threats and things that were too far away to affect me too personally. Then he (Dad) decided to do what was better for us in that controlling aggressive matter that ONLY traditional MEN use to control their daughters. It came down to that simple fact – I was too independent, like my American heritage could teach me dangerous ideas. He forced me to stop doing what I loved, and that one word, WRITE, saved my life from the deepest darkest depression.
I LOVE to write, in fact i would die if I couldn’t write. Writing is the air I breathe, the tingling magic that drives me to succeed and get good grades – don’t forget that I’m still a teenager. But that wasn’t enough. Depression started to block my view and steal my sunshine.
Then I found it lying lonely on the bottom of a dirty library card, the kind with wheels that squeak – The Secret. A window out, a way to leave my sunless world. I poured over it, memorizing it and piecing together all the things I wanted to do, and then I found it – DREAM – more specifically my dream. I’ve always had a very dramatic flair that runs in my family, hence the aggressive, angry Dad, and I wanted to be an ACTRESS. I wanted a CASTLE on a PRIVATE ISLAND, with a PIRATE SHIP, a car, dogs and two adopted kids. The end. Big things that when put in perspective seemed so small compared to what I could’ve asked for. In conclusion, all I wanted was my piece of Americana, that dream that steals the mind of every immigrant. All i wanted was to be me. I didn’t need fame, not fortune, not money. All I wanted was a little house and that magic little thing, HOPE.
Yesterday I left my dad and moved in with my mom and she signed me up with an acting agency. A mom I hadn’t seen or said a word to in TEN LONG SCARY DEAD YEARS. It was somewhat intimidating.
And then, I CRIED!!! The Secret does work; over a hundred and fifty times worth. If you ask for something, it will sit and listen to your tears and when you’re done crying it’ll make a door where there was once only a wall.
I believe. That’s all I needed to say and it’ll work for you, just do it kid, believe.