No matter how many nights I fall asleep blaming him for my hardships, there are reasons to thank him for my success. He made me fight for my dreams without making the same mistakes he did. I never became an alcoholic because him drinking made me sick. I never did drugs because he was always acting like an idiot. I choose to move away from home to become my own person instead of staying behind to conform to small town’s expectations. I told myself I would do things because I could do things. I wasn’t restricted with a tainted past. I turned it around in time. I never had to go around the rules to get what I wanted; I worked my ass off to get there, deserving every bit of its rewards. The rewards I got, I earned myself. I kept going every day because I believed in myself. I never fell behind; I always worked ahead.
Sometimes he calls me a prude because in his mind I’m still a child. He hasn’t seen me grow up or blossom into this responsible adult of 24 years. I’m not a prude; I’m acting my age. I didn’t get to New York City being irresponsible or by slacking off or by letting people do things for me or by holding a lucky, heads-up penny in my pocket. I got to live my dream because I made good choices; I worked my ass off; and I never said, “This is good enough”.
Never tell yourself it’s good enough. Only the best fulfill their dreams, wake up happy, and fall asleep looking forward to tomorrow. Tomorrow’s not another shitty day at the office. It’s not the bane of your existence. It’s not the end of the world either. It’s a gift. And if you don’t see it that way, wake the hell up and make it one. Do something. Quit living in the shadows. Quit making bad choices. Quit making excuses. You know what your dream is… you’ve always known. Make it happen even though life has thrown you rotten apples and a little bit of sour milk. It’s not hard; it’s just hard work.