Dreams of My Childhood

An artist was what I wanted to be. An artist was what I wanted to be when I was little. Every second of the day I wanted to draw and create. If I had to do one thing for the rest of my life, I would choose drawing. However, my dreams have been crushed or have changed since time has passed.
As I grew up, reality hit me like a speeding bullet train. Pursuing a career in the arts is a risky and often unrewarding feat. On top of student loans that have be paid off, art commissions are barely enough to pay for rent and other living expenses. The limits of my abilities have also held me back. While an average person might think that I am a very talented artist, I am nothing compared to the Picassos that I would face in an art school.
Despite all this, my mind is always wavering. My passion for art is always burning but my brain is telling me to choose wisely. The dreams of my past still coerce me even though I am aware of the circumstances and harsh consequences.

In this way, I can relate to Dexter Green in Winter Dreams by F.Scott Fitzgerald. Dexter's desires dictate most of his life. While he wants luxury, his financial instability is an obstacle (which he later jumps over). He also knows that Judy Jones is not a girl he should be with but he can't help but desire her when they meet at the University Club.
After many years have passed, Dexter mourns because he had his past taken away from him. He regrets ever loving Judy Jones and dreaming of being with her.

These regrets are what scare me. I am afraid of regretting my childhood dreams if I do not succeed as an adult. If my hopes of the past ruin my life I might end up hating myself. I also might end up hating myself if I don't do what I love.

How easy it would be if, in the words of Cinderella, "the dream that you wish will come true."