When your dreams slowly fade away and you feel stuck in life...

A short letter to my lost self.

Sorrowing Old Man (At Eternity's Gate) by Vincent van Gogh

You’re 18, maybe 20 years old, full of hope and optimism about what all you could become; filmmakers and entrepreneurs and astronauts. Boundless dreams that you think, if only things could go a certain way, and if you could just get enough time and resources, you might be able to turn into reality. You’re ready to fight the world and whoever stands in your way; escape the dogma and all. And yes, all that hope is accompanied by self-doubt. Maybe you’re just not that good. But so what? you think. It’s just a skill and you’re fired up to learn. You’re ready to work hard and improve and maybe then you’ll reach your dreams. Easy, right?

Years go by. And you find yourself in the same boat you were years ago, going wherever the wind is taking you. A bit lost and slowly losing that hope you used to have. Bit by bit. You start to feel as if the world is against you. The odds are against you. You feel stuck in an unfamiliar maze and have no idea how to get out of it. Days turn to months which turn to years. You see the others sailing past you, the ones with ambition and a sense of direction. They’re succeeding in their lives. At least, it looks like it. Money and cars and houses and spouses, looks like they’re getting it all.

And you? You’re still in the maze. Stuck. Feeling claustrophobic. Slowly suffocating. The dreams you had have been buried by now under years of dust gathering as you try to live a life that was never really your own.

And slowly, life gets away from you.

You’re 30 or 40 or 50 years old. Full of despair and a pessimistic outlook on the world. You feel as if it’s never going to happen for you. That you’re doomed to a life of disappointment that fills you with resentment and regret. You can almost feel the bitterness on your tongue, the acid in your gut.

Then one day, you see a flicker of that old dream. Just a spark, and then it all comes back. All at once. The dread in your heart. The tears in your eyes. The weight on your chest. The only dream you’ve ever had, the one that you had forgotten long ago. It is back now. You can see it clearly as you dust off the years of buildup. You’re older, running a race that was never really your own. But it’s here now, that dream. And you realize you have a chance but only if you’re brave enough to take it; brave enough to take the chance to tell your own story.

What do you do?