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It all started with a recurring dream that I had again. A nightmare of sorts, in which I was forced to return to boarding school, though this time I was old enough to leave. I kept repeating the same phrase over and over again.
“I’m an adult now, what am I going to do? Whatever the fuck I want.”
Why did I stay? What was it that prevented me from simply walking away, given the reality that I had every right to do so?
Every now and again, whenever I come to a pivotal turning point in my life, I often take a compendious look into my past, my mind seemingly perpetually commandeered with snapshots and still frames.
Flashbacks and memories of earlier times when I felt as if I had somehow lost control of my own decisions, my path in life gone astray, though the fault clearly was never my own.
Things are better now, things are peaceful, now decades later, yet I feel my mind weakened by the years, as people continue to succumb to superficiality as a means of dealing with their own insecurities. Sometimes even my friends, most of whom I’ve known since childhood read some published accounts of my childhood experiences, only to turn a blind eye filled with disbelief, questing the glory and validity of my story.
His insight left me paralyzed and anything but optimistic about the future. Sadly, my father passed away an old, impatient old man who never was able to see his only child grow up to be happy and extremely successful.
It seems that the hopes and dreams of our parents aren’t necessarily congruent with those of their children. My fathers dream was for me to become independently wealthy, and often criticized me for not enrolling solely in business classes during my college years. Instead I followed my own dreams and aspirations, regardless of how many times I changed my mind. In the end, not knowing what I wanted to do with my life from a very early age lead me to live a very interesting life, though kn many respects, it forced me to grow up way too fast.
The header image was a photograph taken of me by my father.