One thing that kind of nags me is that I read from blogs and other places online about how some people think Parisians are rude. I refuse to believe it. Everyone is different and if you are from a place that has a different culture then you might see things differently. What might be rudeness could be a misinterpretation. I guess it’s a small fear that I won’t like Paris when I get there. If I make it there…
I am extremely open and I like to think that I’m not judgmental. I like to see all sides of a situation before I come to a conclusion. Well… the couple said they love Paris and haven’t experienced anything negative.
A waiter later gave me a meal that I think was kidneys or liver. I don’t remember which one it was. I didn’t order it and it tasted odd. I didn’t enjoy the meal but thought I didn’t want to send it back because maybe it would have been rude to send the dish back. Especially since I didn’t order in the first place, it might have been complimentary. The couple left before I did but they didn’t pay for their meal. When I finished the meal, I looked around for a waiter so I could pay but no one showed up. I ended up leaving, just like the couple next to me. I felt extremely guilty but I saw myself walking through Paris talking to a designer. I had a feeling she was famous but she wasn’t a person from this reality. She was talking to me about a music video that my designs were going to appear on. I was so happy yet curious. I wanted to explore Paris. I started to ask her questions about places to go and a hotel where I can stay during the time I was here. She was a little upset that I kept asking her questions about Paris instead of focusing on the project. I apologize and felt bad because I didn’t want to upset her. The whole experience was life altering. I was just in shock. She was giving me an opportunity of a lifetime. As we were walking, I saw a brochure of the best places for a tourist to visit while in Paris. I immediately grabbed it. After we began talking in her office and I woke up.
I don’t know if I mentioned this before but I think I’m a lucid dreamer. I can remember most of my dreams. I can leave any dream that I am aware of that is unpleasant. Either I take myself out unconsciously or yell help when things get dicey and I wake up. I can also jump back in my dreams, if I wake up suddenly. I can usually do this within a five minute window. I love doing this for awesome dreams. When I was a kid, I had horrible nightmares of Freddy Kruger. They were so bad that at one point, I yelled help and I woke up. I started to notice whenever I said that in fear that something bad was going to happen, I would wake up automatically. It’s only when I’m active in the dream when this happens. Sometimes it feels like I’m watching events happen and I have no control.
Anyway… I have no idea what that dream means. I feel privileged that I can experience another moment in Paris. Even if it’s only a dream, it feels like a rare experience. I have pictures of Paris rotating on my computer. I stare at the Eiffel Tower every day. I am in love with Paris. I wish I was able to visit Paris with all of being.
I have doubts. Serious doubts… I feel like I’m fighting against myself and past mistakes.
Speaking of mistakes, I’m not going to enter the contest. It really hurts but I feel the little money I do have should go to necessities and not a dream. I have to pay bills, very important bills. Food and Bills… that’s it. Until I find a way to make a living off the dream, I have to keep paying for the mistakes I made. Pure survival mode.
My birthday is less than a month away and I am seriously dreading it. Last year, I tried to kill myself three days before my birthday. That time still haunts me. I have these dreams of Paris and I feel they give me hope that my life still has meaning, that I have still have meaning. I can make it. I fought against serious depressing times throughout the last couple of months. I stared at death and wanted to embrace it. I feel the repercussions of my last attempt all the time. Strange… The first two times I was able to get back to being normal within a few weeks. Now, not so much.
I wasn’t going to go into much details but I feel like talking, feel like writing. I’ve been fighting for a while to try to find a way to become financially secure. I abandoned my art for a few months. I feel sad about that but I thought it was necessary.
I guess the real question that I have to ask myself is, Is color worth all this pain? Worth the struggle? It seems like a quick answer based on my love of color but it’s not. Have you ever felt at home with something or someone? Where there’s no judgment. Where there’s no hate. Where you feel safe and loved. You can be bold. You can be in rage. You can cry. You can feel insecure. You can feel sweetness. There’s no uncertainty that the relationship you have is real to some degree and you depend on it. However… you feel this love is not accepted here. Very few people will like the work you create. You will constantly struggle. You have no guarantee that you will become successful. No guarantee that your love will save you from misery. No guarantee that the pain you feel is temporary. I don’t want to live a life of heartbreak. It’s a sign of weakness in this world. A life of heartbreak based on my errors. Based on my mistakes… I wish I could turn the clock back. I know where this life went wrong for me. I know the exact moment. However… maybe all of this pain will mean something in the end. Maybe there’s still a chance for me. Maybe I can make it to Paris. Maybe all the dreams I’ve had will come true in some degree. Maybe, I’ll be like Santiago and find my treasure.
I don’t know but while I’m still here, I’m not giving up. Not yet…