f*ck a dolla, I want a dream

Most of us won’t admit it but at the end of the day — we are all dreamers and lovers. We try to find that lining, that one inch opening, that moment, that idea that will change our lives or maybe the world. Maybe we aren’t just robots programmed to wake up and merely “get through life”.

Some of us do the same thing everyday. Are we looking for a different outcome? Maybe. Will we get it? Probably not. But the mere idea that it could happen is the underlying reason why we do it. Even when you know deep down inside how it will end. You visualize it. The ending isn’t special. The last day is like every other day of your life. But there is an ounce of hope in us, an ounce of hope that maybe today is the day. Today is the day you will have the big idea. Today is the day you will create something the world will love. Today is the day you will found out why you were put on this earth. Today you might bump into an old friend and you two will talk about better times and bigger dreams. Maybe you go follow them, finally. Today is the day you meet the love of your life. Maybe today is the day you part ways with the one you love because you know that you can love again, but it will never have the same love twice. And that is ok.

We may wake up as writers, bankers, lawyers, doctors, clerks, sales execs, designers, soldiers, cops, engineers, waiters, dishwashers etc. But we are dreamers and lovers even if we don’t want to admit it. We do things because of that glimmer of hope. That glimmer that we can be better or become the best. That glimmer of hope that someone one will walk into your life and turn your world upside down. It’s all hope. The truth is that most of us will never reach it and that might be the best part. Being a dreamer and lover is being a slave to your imagination. And the destroyer of your imagination is reality.

I had a job where I woke up and did the same exact thing for almost 2 years. THE EXACT SAME THING. Nothing ever happened because I didn’t do anything different. But you know what? I had this dream that I would wake up and figure it all out. I would go to bed with the excitement that I would wake up and realize what I should be doing. I got dressed, pushed my way on the crowded 9am subway rush and thought today is the day when something great happens. Guess what? Nothing great happened in 2 years. But I’m a dreamer. I quit my job. I changed a few things in my life. Nothing great has happened yet. I haven’t had that moment. But yet again — deep down inside, in places I don’t dare to explore because I know I’ll see the truth, I think something great will happen.

I met someone. He was something. He got things about me that nobody else did. Finding someone is pure luck. Of all the bars in Manhattan. Of all the people on this island. Two people meet. Two people that can talk for hours. Well that is just pure luck. Luck has never been on my side. Our time was spent drinking wine at his apartment and watching sports documentaries. I was ok with that. I liked it. And time and time again he made the inevitable more clear. I always want more. I knew the end. I knew it. I could see it, I could feel it. I could tell you an exact play by play how it would end. Yet I still continued. I let it go on because somewhere deep down inside in places I don’t talk about with friends — I thought it would work, with every bone in my body. All the logic in the world. His own words. I let it go on. Here I was trying to fit a square block in a circle. A million reasons why it will never happen and here I was looking for that million and one reason why it would. Why was I doing that? Is it just stupidity? Some will differ. To me — I created hope. I created an alternative universe. Was it false hope? Perhaps. But it felt real. Being a lover isn’t about being romantic. Being a lover is believing that sometimes love outweighs logic. The end hurt. It will hurt for some time. Would I do it again? 100%. That glimmer of hope never dies. You don’t remember people. You remember moments. There is a moment or two that will always be a memory and that memory will always bring that damn hope again. It doesn’t make sense but it does. It’s like getting tattoo or a shot. You know exactly how it’s going to feel, you know it’s going to be painful but when it happens — it still fucking hurts.

I guess money and society standards could be the dissenting opinion. We wake up to make money to support ourselves and our family. We wake up because pressure from our family and society to be normal and have a career and a house. But me, I still like to believe it’s because we are lovers and dreamers. From the suits and uniforms to the morning commutes to the excel sheets, from not following our childhood dreams to staying in places we hate with people who don’t excite us anymore — we are waiting for that day, that idea, the feeling, that makes us feel alive.

My friend recently just got back from traveling the world with his boyfriend for a year. We all gush how amazing it was and how we “totally want to quit our jobs”. None of us ever will. For most it’s fear. That is are valid. I get it. This entire thing probably sounds like some hippie liberal occupy wall street bullshit and you have permission to call it exactly how you see it. I’m not saying I’m not happy. You’re not happy. I’m saying we want more. We know being in the same place, doing the same thing with the same people is comfort. There is nothing wrong with be comfortable. I’m trying to tell you that it’s ok to be a dreamer. It’s okay to be hopeless lover. It’s okay, because you do it all already.

Biggie says “fuck a dollar and a dream”. I say you need both. But fuck them too.