“What are you supposed to be kid?”
“I’m a writer sir.”
“Right, course you are… You an every
other wannabe out there. Heh, there ain’t no money it writin’ pal.”
“It’s not about the money. If I have
to get a job, so that I can write, I will.”
“Why don’tcha go to college, get a
real job, otherwise you’ll be workin at a truck stop for the rest of yah
miserable days.”
“That’s fine sir. I’m willing to do
whatever it takes to achieve my dream.”
“Ey, kid… You trying to talk to me…
about dreams? About dreams? Kid, dreams are just that, dreams, they’re
illusions, fakes whatevah you wanna call em, but they ain’t worth anything they
don’t buy food, they don’t support a family...”
“Dreams are meant to be created,
not dreamt. I have no intentions of falling asleep to live my dreams, I want to
wake up and live them.”
“You sound like a poet, an yah know
what? They don’t make money either. What you are tryin to pull ain’t realistic,
it’s disappointing. You know how many people, try and chase all their little
fantasies? A lot, an yah know how many of them actually make it?”
“Not many sir.”
“Dang straight pal… Dang straight…”
“That’s not stopping me though, I’ll
be a writer, I have to be.”
“You don’t have to be nuthin kid,
you just gotta be what you gotta be.”
“And for me that means I gotta be a
writer.”
“No, what I’m saying is you need to
think about what you’re about to do with yah life, you tryin to walk down this
road, heck it’s not even a road, where you happen to be goin is a cliff, a
straight up cliff and you gonna fall at crash into the rocks at the bottom.”
“Maybe so…”
“Do you not understand what I’m
tryin to tell yah here? I’m sayin you are headed towards a dead end, a place
where there is nowhere, they’s thousands of other people out there, trying,
dreaming and trying to do the same thing you wanna do, and they live in their
mom’s basement, they don’t achieve these dreams, you keep going down this path an
you’ll have nothing...”
“If I have a pencil, and a piece of
paper that’ll be just fine by me.”
“Heh, you got some guts, to keep
sayin that to me… Hey, pal, how badly you wanna write?”
“More than I want to breathe… I
make myself sick thinking about doing anything other than writing. It’s… It’s…”
“No, kid, tell me. How bad do yah
wanna write? Because there is a universe of an abyss between what it really
takes an what you are willing to give in order to do this…”
“I want to-“
“What are you willing to do!”
“Take my home!”
“How bad!?”
“Take it, take everything! It’s not
about writing for money it’s about writing because I’m a writer! You take that
away and I’m nothing! It’s not about what I’m willing to do! It’s about what I WILL
do!”
“Heh…” The old homeless man wiped a
tear rolling down his dust covered face. “Good answer kid. Good answer, I remember,
standin where yah stand, wanting to be something, but it’s because I gave up… I
gave up my dreams an look where I am…” The old man fell forward sobbing. The
tears wetting the patch of cardboard he sat on. The kid took a step forward and
knelt down in front of the old homeless man.
“I almost want it…” The kid said “I
almost want the pain that I’ll go through to achieve my dream… I almost want
it, right now… I’m eager, to fight for my dream…”
“You won’t be when the pain comes
towards you… What if you end up like me…?”
“Then save me a seat next to you.
Then again… What if I don’t?”
“I want you to save me a seat too.”
The homeless man smiled “I don’t want you to give up kid… Those who persevere,
they not only carry their own dreams, but those who have lost theirs…”
“No. Carry your own dream…”
“Kid I…”
“Stand up.”
“I…”
“Stand up!” At the kids rising
words, the old man stood up with a groan. He looked down at the kid.
“This what yah wanted? Here I am! I’m
standing!” He growled.
“Now start walking.”
“Fine…” The kid grabbed the old man
by the arm and started walking him away from the sidewalk. “Where we walking
to?” The old man asked.
“Doesn’t matter.” Said the kid “just
keep walking.”
“Now what?”
“Speed up, start chasing it.” The
kid pulled the old man along, first, he was walking, the kid dragging him
along, faster and faster. “Come on! Chase it! Let’s go!”
“What are we chasing?!” The old man
asked, he was tired, he hadn’t gone running in years his bones felt as though
they were about to snap just by walking.
“You’re chasing your dream!” The
kid called, and the old man realized that the kid was far behind him. The old
man was running on his own, chasing his dream.
Points: 487
Reviews: 107
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