To Anyone with a Dream That Feels Impossible

Plot Twist: Following Your Dreams Is Kinda Brutal

"Well," he looked down, rubbing his thumbs together while the Lakers played quietly in the background. "Maybe... maybe some dreams are meant to stay hobbies."

I looked at my dad—the man who has spent 24 years encouraging me to chase every wild, unattainable thing my heart desires. He is gracious. Kind. My biggest cheerleader.

Which is why it hit like a gut punch to hear those words come out of his mouth.

Maybe he had a point.

Every day, I sit at my [redacted] job in a windowless room, doing nothing that moves me creatively but something that sustains me.

I went to film school. I did everything I was supposed to do—studied the craft, worked on sets, earned a degree that was supposed to open doors. And still, getting in feels impossible.

I want to act. I want to write. I want to executive produce stories that matter—stories that make people feel something deep in their bones.

And yet, this dream feels impossible.

Not difficult. Not challenging. Impossible.

I am sacrificing everything for something that might never happen. A dream that demands full devotion, even when it offers no guarantee of success. I train. I write. I audition. I work on my craft in the quiet, in the dark, in the spaces where no one is watching. I push past the voice that whispers, Who are you to think you can do this? I wake up every day and choose to believe I can.

But the truth?

I really don’t know if I’ll ever get there.

No one tells you how brutal it is to love something this much and know that love isn’t enough. Talent isn’t enough. Hard work isn’t always enough. You can give a dream everything, and it still might not want you back.

"Maybe some dreams are meant to stay hobbies."

Or maybe that’s just what people say when they don’t want to watch someone they love chase something that might break them.

Then I came across this quote from Kerry Washington:

"You have to pray to catch the bus—but then run as fast as you can when it arrives. If you don’t run, that could have been your bus. You can’t just sit around and daydream and expect things to unfold. You have to also have the pedal meet the metal. You have to take action. Dream big, stay in faith, take action. Then, if I don’t get the bus, it wasn’t meant to be my bus.”

And it hit me. I’ve been standing at the bus stop, praying, hoping, waiting—but I haven’t been running. Let’s just say I’ve been jogging.

This year, I booked one acting job. Just one. And instead of seeing it as proof that I could do this, I let the fact that it was only one make me feel like it wasn’t enough.

But maybe it was my bus. Maybe it was the first of many, or maybe just proof that the buses do come.

So now, I’m running. I’m done waiting. I’m done half-assing my dreams out of fear.

I don’t blame my dad for doubting. Heck, I doubt myself every single day. He wants me to be okay. He wants me to have stability, health insurance, a life that isn’t dictated by a million what ifs. And fair enough—because I am, in fact, about to get kicked off my parents’ health insurance.

But I don’t think I can let this dream go just yet.

To anyone with a dream that feels impossible: I see you. I know how heavy it is. I know the exhaustion of convincing yourself, day after day, that it’s still worth it.

Maybe we’ll make it. Maybe we won’t.

But I’d rather try and fail than never try at all.

LOL. Here’s my acting headshot if anyone wants to cast me in anything. . .jk (unless).

Also if you relate to this, please let me know. I’d love to chat about it with y’all in the comments!

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