I Dream and I Fight

I have believed for quite some time that each decision someone makes will come from two emotions, either from love or from fear. Every step and every connection made comes from these two emotions, no matter how big or how insignificant.

For a long time I let fear control my life. It dictated every word and every step I took. I was afraid of denial, afraid of disappointing my family and friends, but most of all I was afraid of getting hurt. I wasted a good piece of my life simply living the way people wanted me to live. I did not realize that I could be and live the way I wanted to, without creating this disappointment or being denied.

I have always been afraid to dream, to let my heart yearn for its inspiration and meaning. Now this may seem bizarre, but I simply could not control this irrational concept that dreaming would only create hurt.

I now realize that I love nothing more than a pen in hand and a notebook in front of me, but before I could not even admit it to myself in the quietest of moments. I lived from fear, the fear of my dreams, and the fear of pursuing writing.

It was a confusing period of time, living in this state. I did not want to differ from my companions with this urge to write, and I was afraid to show my family my passion for the subject. When people find out I am an aspiring writer, they think of the hardship I am going to have endure trying to succeed in the competitive world of literature. It seems that the looks I get from others and their doubts of my ability to succeed from others, keep me up at night with worry. For I not only deal with these doubts myself, but to be doubted by others is something I once feared the most.

Not only was I afraid of failure, but I was also afraid that this dream would become something bigger, something more intense, something too hopeful. I was afraid of my own ability to succeed, as it would disprove all of the negative statements I put through my head. The words that I had carefully decided on in order to explain my past failures, shortcomings, and other wrongdoings, would no longer be valid as an excuse for mistakes. Just like failing would turn my world upside down, success would be a new and daunting road as well.

For a long time, I believed that it might be best to not overcome this fear, but to pretend it did not exist. I continued with my studies, remained unsure of what I wanted, socialized with my peers, and generally ignored that nagging feeling. Although my fingers itched for a piece of paper when an idea came to mind, I feigned ignorance. It was to the point where I would finally sit down at the computer to write something for school and nothing would come to me – I had built up too many careful walls to let my creativity break through. It was frustrating; it frustrated me to the point where I convinced myself that I had no hope in this anyways whatsoever.

However, one does not overcome fear with more fear. The only way out is through, and I had to learn this. It took a lot of courage to begin to allow myself to love writing again, and even more courage to love myself. These changes did not take place overnight, but with small steps and those tiny love-based decisions that gave me what I needed.

I began to reveal my love for writing to my friends, and to bring up the idea of pursuing it to my parents. These choices came with compromises, such as back-up plans in case it did not work out, and possible writing lessons instead of a normal day to day routine. Sometimes it felt like a drawback, and sometimes I felt as if I’d rather crawl into my hole of fear and never return. There were good days and bad days, but each time the dream got bigger. At that point, it had gotten too big to smother and let die. I would have much rather felt the emotions of joy and sorrow that came with my dream than to feel the constant feeling of being incomplete that came with avoiding it.

Now, it is still a battle. I still doubt myself – I doubt my skills and my ability to succeed, and sometimes I let the fear overtake me and prevent me from living my true self. It is still hard to sit down and force myself to write a school paper. When I make a mistake, I feel those negative words and thoughts come back to haunt me, but now I am too strong to let them eat me alive. They cannot destroy me in the way that I was letting them. I would not turn my back on my dreams as I would not turn my back on myself, because I can stand up here, as a seventeen year old high school student, and say that I am learning to love myself.

Writing is a part of who I am, and what I stand for. There are many teenagers who cannot answer the question when asked, “who are you”? Knowing that I am constantly growing and experiencing life, I too cannot fully answer this question, but I do know my values and what I love. I believe that what someone is composed of makes up who they are. And I know that writing is an elements that creates me.

A dream is a fight, but not in the sense of war, blood and carnage. I dream and I fight for my dream with the only power that I know to be true —- and that power is love. It is an overwhelming and real feeling that has inspired me to share my dream with others. And in return for my love and my willpower, I have been given support and love from others. Now, I’m sure there are some of you here who believe me to be a bit stubborn, and this may be true. But just remember that when you see me, I am also fighting. I am fighting for my dreams, and fighting with my love.

My name is Alli Schaeffer, and I am no longer living in fear.