Why does it feel like the realistic and idealistic versions of my life are at odds? Like they are two magnetics defying each other?

I have spent a lot of time and lost a lot of sleep dreaming about what my life could (and will) be. I have asked myself – why can’t the idealistic versions of my life become my reality?

Maybe it is because the word “ideal” is rooted in perfection which is near impossible. Or maybe, more so, it is because we have been told time and again our biggest dreams, our ideals, are unattainable. That we are selfish, aloof, or wasting time by focusing on them.

But as the dreamer I am, I hold my ideals close to me and I work towards them because the world has only changed when the idealistic strive towards our ideals.


I write everyday because it allows me to voice what is at the surface. Once that is out of my head, I can dig in another layer deeper. My daily writing practice has been my greatest exploration of self and humanity. Sign up here to receive these thought nuggets in your inbox on the daily.