It’s one of those odd things that my surname is Wall because I’ve been thinking about how a lot of my life there was this wall between me and my big dreams and ideas. Sometimes I feel just like I could do everything because there’s so many things I’d love to do, I sometimes feel its like this huge bursting thing is wanting to come out. When I feel inspired its like a balloon and I swear I feel its stretching but then this balloon hits a wall, and because Wall is my name, I’m not just talking figuratively. It hits me.
Then what happens is I feel all hopeless, like what’s the point having all these dreams, because all that’s going to happen is, we’ll nothing… Then I feel my balloon shrink, and it keeps shrinking that often I can’t even remember it was even hitting that wall, maybe that wall was just me being naive, like honestly who gives a fuck about all this stuff I’m writing about anyway?
Sometimes its not a wall so much but a hole. There’s this hole I’ve got and its what I just throw wasted dreams into, all those big ideals, all those things I thought could help make life better, even those little creative projects I thought would bear fruit – they all get thrown into that hole.
Sometimes I stand by that hole, like its a grave and I get teary eyed, because those dreams were like my friends, they inspired me, they gave me hope, they made me believe and wonder “what if?”.
But now, they’re just thrown on the pile, stacked up with the others and left to remind me of how I don’t have what it takes to make my dreams bear fruit.
Sometimes I start to bury them. I shovel the dirt over them, because its too hard even to remind myself, its too hard to feel all that pain.
Sometimes God I just really don’t understand.