The Fading Beauty of Dreams

As I was scrolling down and reading tweets on Twitter, a friend of mine retweeted a poem by Cindy Cherie that caught my attention. 

It says, "Colour me in, I pleaded, placing a paintbrush in your hand, I'm fading."

The word fading has tremendous impact on me. I never thought it could easily stab me straight in the heart at that moment.

Cindy's poem for me refers to someone who is hopeless and needs a real dose of HOPE.

And I think that someone is ME. 

My desire to make my dreams and goals come true since childhood slowly fades away. 

I describe it as B-L-U-R-R-Y.

I. D-R-E-A-M-S

At an early age of 15, I already know what career I want to pursue when I grow up; I know what my heart's desire since then—I wanted to be a reporter. 

I want to tell stories that are worth sharing in this world because I believe that being a reporter is my calling.

I remember when I first realized this vision of becoming a reporter, it was after I gave speech in my English class.

I took the opportunity to discuss in front of my classmates the most sensitive issue in society, which is sexual abuse or exploitation.

I don't have any history of being sexually abused by someone, but I'm aware that evil things exist. I watched it on TV, read the news and heard stories on the radio. 

So, when the time has come for me to choose a college course that will help me fulfill my dream in the future, I took Communication Arts—a full course that tackles reporting, film making, media relations, communications, etc.

Throughout my college years, I kept my goals intact with my heart and mind.

At that time, hope keeps me alive. 

I believe anything is possible.

I believe I can turn my dreams into reality. 

I believe I can. 

I believe that whatever happens, I-Will-Become-A-Reporter

II. FADING

Fast forward, I am now in my twenties. My dream of becoming a reporter for the past decades remains a dream.

In hindsight, I have realized that there are opportunities that I have missed along the way that I sort of regret.

Yes, I always want to become a reporter, but my desire to do so is not as intense as it used to be. I guess dreams of childhood may fade away in the wake of adulthood. 

As of writing, I think I'm in a so-called quarter-life crisis. Three weeks ago, I resigned as a government employee and I can't help but think too much, "Where to go next? What do I do now?"

I feel so lost. I'm struggling. That is what is happening at the present time.

III. COLOUR

I don't know what the future holds, but one thing is for sure:  I won't give up. 

 The phrase "Colour me" in Cindy's poem motivates me to keep going (;). 

Deep down in my heart, I want to believe again that maybe all I need is a paintbrush— a tool that I can use to give color to my faded dream.

...

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