Death by a thousand cuts
For all the dreams that once I dreamt of
I love cats. The affection started when I was 5, driving me to dream of being a veterinarian and nurturing numerous feline friends in the years to come.
In middle school, a young lady’s seminar caught my attention. While the topic eludes memory, her sophisticated appearance and professional demeanor mesmerized me. This moment sparked a desire to become a businesswoman, aiming for any profession that would let me carry a sophisticated aura.
Afterward, ‘Interstellar’ captivated me. The extraordinary sci-fi film left me utterly amazed. You’ve probably guessed that my dreams shifted once more, haven’t you? You’re right. I now set my sights on becoming an astronaut.
Later on, I saw Taylor Swift performing on TV, effortlessly strumming her guitar. Her music sparked a longing in me to be a musician — or at the very least, a guitarist.
Then I started reading books and frequently visited libraries, influenced by a lot of good books that ignited my aspiration to become a writer.
Enrolling in a vocational school for travel management and exploring diverse destinations kindled my desire to become a traveler and pen a book about my journeys.
I also aimed for excellent grades to qualify for a scholarship for studying abroad.
I hope there’s ample space left to pen the dreams of my younger self. But as I entered the professional world, I came to realize that none of my dreams would materialize.
The stark truth was that I consistently fell short of achieving those aspirations.
When I realized that becoming a vet requires a doctorate, I turned down my dreams.
When I realized that becoming a businesswoman requires substantial financial resources to initiate a venture, and with no clear path to acquire them, I turned down my dreams.
When I realized that becoming an astronaut demands relevant professional experience as a jet aircraft pilot, I turned down my dreams.
And then I thought I could be a guitarist, so I bought my guitar, learned a few chords, played various songs — and that’s it. I will never truly become a musician or create songs due to my lack of creativity.
And then I thought I could be a writer, so I started crafting numerous drafts and submitted them to several publishers. None of them sent any feedback. And my stories, on which I had worked diligently, went unread by anyone.
And then I thought I could be a traveler, but the lack of funds halted me. And I’ll never visit the places I’ve always yearned to explore.
And then I thought I could study abroad, so I applied for numerous scholarships. However, my grades fell short of their standards, leading to rejection. And I’ll never get the chance to study outside my country, learn a new language, and immerse myself in a different culture.
And now, here I am, a simple worker in a company, driven solely by deadlines set by my bosses. I work to earn my paycheck, sustaining me through the weeks, only to repeat the cycle once more.
None of the dreams came true. And it changed me.
I once had grand dreams, but now I lead a regular life. I return home after long work hours, cleanse myself, and watch TV, where I see videos of people traveling the world. At that moment, my mother enters the living room and asks, “Didn’t you once want to be like them?” I only manage a grin in response.
I used to be a kid with such big dreams. Then the reality of life dawned upon me, and all I truly desired was a steady income and good mental health.
While I did pursue my dreams eventually, but only to the limit that I could manage to play guitar with a few chords and songs, wasn’t something to be proud of. It’s not as if people will ever see me becoming a musician, playing my songs at a café or local festival.
While in this routine life, I still find solace in petting cats whenever I come across them. I also take pictures of them, yet it serves as a reminder of my buried dreams. Presently, I’m merely navigating through each day, one step at a time.
Watching my dreams fade away is truly frightening.
It’s as if I’m perched atop an immensely tall bubble, and it’s slowly leaking air. It feels like it’s due to multiple cuts, and the descent is undeniable. There’s a sinking feeling within my entire being, yet I’m trapped — to get off is to fall. So I continue to sink.
I’m sinking into the demise of my dreams, a death marked by numerous failed attempts. It’s a death by a thousand cuts — slow, agonizing, and painful.
In my youth, dreaming was effortless, oblivious to the underlying factors — costs, time, social support, consistency, and hard work. I recognize my deficiency in all of those. The thousand cuts that killed my dreams. And my insistence on perfection over progress adds to the weight of that fact.
Years roll on, yet I remain perched on the bubble. My perspective has shifted; I can’t glimpse what I once did. I yearn for those sights and a sense of melancholy envelops me. There are new things, unfamiliar and daunting. I’m uncertain how to interpret these strange elements.
At times, fear grips me as I ponder why I allowed my dreams to perish, and why I never pursued them again.
A single question lingers in my mind: Is it acceptable to exist without a dream? Does that equate to failure?
I mean, I don’t wish to ignore the reality that I’ve found comfort in embracing a routine, doing the same tasks daily, interacting with the familiar, settling in a place that might not align with my dreams but brings in money — where risks are few, and safety is assured.
But occasionally, I yearn to grasp my dreams.
I wish I could spare my younger self from disappointment and never hold her accountable for her lofty dreams.
But beyond everything, I hope she still retains the desire to dream. The one who dared to dream, who believed in the boundless possibilities, who found fascination in every aspect of life.
I’m uncertain if I’m too late to reach certain dreams. Yet, a spark remains within me, yearning to reignite those dreams — even though not every dream must materialize. Some I must release, but others I still wish to hold onto.
Now I understand that releasing a dream isn’t synonymous with failure; it’s about opting for what’s truly best for me.
Then one of my dreams comes to mind: becoming a writer.
Am I a writer now? I’m not sure. The readers will decide. However, penning this piece for a remarkably good publication is my way of demonstrating that I won’t surrender my dreams. This is my method of keeping that little girl’s dream alive.
Being a vet, musician, or businesswoman might not be the right path for me. To truly succeed in those positions, I’d have to make sacrifices that are beyond my capacity. I cannot compromise my integrity, mask parts of who I am, abandon my principles for the sake of advancement, or subject my loved ones to undeserved scrutiny and criticism.
I’ve embraced a new idea. Where I once channeled honesty and integrity into my dreams, often neglecting my well-being and that of others, I’ve now taken the opposite approach. It feels much more fulfilling.
I’m uncertain about weaving the best parts of myself, my desires, and my principles into a purposeful life. Yet, I’m resolute in my belief that I’ll discover a path to nurture my dream — that’s just who I am. Although I anticipate this journey will be unlike any other.
Even if my pursuit of being a writer doesn’t result in complete success, I wouldn’t label it a failure.
And I continue to adore cats, even though I’m not a vet. I’m determined to pour all my energy into loving every cat I come across, feeding and petting them whenever possible.
I reject the notion that my entire life is a failure simply due to the countless setbacks in pursuing my dreams. Those aren’t merely cuts, but also the imprints of my unwavering efforts to chase my aspirations, even in the face of a thousand rejections. I opt to believe that I had a purpose all along and that my relentless determination has shaped my current position.
So, unless my time is up in the next minute, I won’t label myself a failure. There’s a chance I might accomplish something meaningful before my time is through.
I always wanted to dabble a bit here and there, a little of this and that. The world offers endless options, but sadly, we can’t do everything. That’s why different people tackle different tasks, while we make the most of our time.
I believe life is for experiencing — doing what we can, striving for our goals, indulging in our passions, and learning all we can. There’s no such thing as too young or too old, too late or too swift. We simply act, make the effort, and among the myriad things we want, achieving even one is satisfying enough.
I wish my younger self could understand that while not all dreams have been fully realized and life may seem mundane, we’re still here with good health, a steady income, and embracing life to the maximum. Moreover, I continue to write pieces on this platform, determined to keep the flame of that dream alive.
Who knows, perhaps another opportunity for a suitable study abroad scholarship will come my way? And if not, that’s alright. After all, dreaming is part of being human, and not reaching a dream doesn’t equate to failure, does it?
And finally, the bubble completely deflates, and I find myself on solid ground. I rise to my feet, step away from it, and take my first steps. Uncertain of what lies ahead — another bubble, or perhaps not. It’s an entirely new world, one I’d glimpsed but never truly knew. This time, I’ll live it to the fullest, putting in all my efforts.
A thousand cuts won’t let my dreams die. I’ll keep them alive.
Written based on this excellent prompt! Thank you, ADEOLA SHEEHY-ADEKALE!
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