You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one.

I'm taking my own advice for the first time in a long time... and technically it wasn't brought about by me in this instance. I wrote about some life lessons a few months ago, the last lesson being "Write." I don't really write anymore. However, after having a huge breakdown to my brother and then to my roommate, I was encouraged to just "write it out." If only it were that simple. My brother did say something interesting though. He said, "Maybe you need to write it out because sometimes there are things that need to be written out, but not said." It made me remember why I started writing in the first place and how I lose myself in my words and when I'm finished whatever I'm writing, I realize so many things that I was feeling. So I figured that they were right and that I should turn to what I know.

I hate that I don't write anymore. I love it so much. I used to. I used to know how to do this. I used to handle my life... and Jesus Christ, how I mastered that. But then you know what happened? Reality happened. People stopped being there - or rather - I realized that the people that I thought were there weren't there at all. I started to catch feelings. I took 19 hours while being the president of a fraternity and working two productions this semester while looking for a job in Hammond and attempting to have a social life. I wouldn't recommend it to anyone. I can't even handle it half the time and I wonder why I do it.

Why do I stay so involved with theatre? It makes my life so complicated. Why do I voluntarily do makeup for one show and then assistant stage manage the next one a few weeks later? Why do I voluntarily run a club that is getting reestablished? Why do I audition? Why do I care about it all - about this big world of make believe where the characters are just as fictional as the people you surround yourself with? I'm stuck in drama all the time because I became "close" with people who can't keep their fucking mouth shut and would fucking die if they weren't able to talk shit about everyone. So then why... why do I do it?

I thought about this all day and just broke down. I thought about how much I miss it. How could I miss a life like that, right? I'll let you in on a secret... I've never been happier in my life than when I cry on stage. When you have understood your character enough that you completely embody them and can cry on stage because you actually feel it... and then the audience cries because they feel you feeling your character's emotions... it is just so brilliant. I love just changing lives for a few hours a night. I love knowing that I'm good at something. I love that it's how I've met my friends - the shitty ones and the few that are actually worth keeping. And, God, how I would love to live on the stage... but I'm not. I'm an English major and I'm going to teach. Practical. And don't get me wrong, I love it. I love English. It's great. It's swell. But, it's not where my soul gets a chance to breathe. I can eliminate comma splices day in and day out, but it will never make me feel like I'm truly doing what I want. That moment that you realize that your dream and your reality can't coexist... that moment is never easy.

So what happens? Do you live your dream or do you realize your reality? When do your dreams become important enough to do something about it? When do you figure it out?

Or do you ever?

xoxo DannDann