Saying Goodbye (Growing Up Sucks).

Today, March 14th, 2012, at 1:24am, I buried my last dream and withdrew from my Acting class, switching my major to just Psychology. It was the right decision and a long time in coming, but I still shed a few (okay, a lot) of tears. I feel, recurringly, like I've betrayed myself, and this is literally the nail in the coffin.

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

I know it's the right decision, and I tried to comfort myself with this quote:

"'Dagny, we can never lose the things we live for. We may have to change their form at times, if we've made an error, but the purpose remains the same and the forms are ours to make.'"-Atlas Shrugged, 615

But then I see this one:

There is no more despicable coward than the man who deserted the battle for his joy, fearing to assert his right to existence, lacking the courage and the loyalty to life of a bird or a flower reaching for the sun. Discard the protective rags of that vice which you call a virtue: humility—learn to value yourself, which means: to fight for your happiness—and when you learn that pride is the sum of all virtues, you will learn to live like a man.

And I'm miserable again. What's worse, is I fear that a major part in my motivation for doing this is because it'll make my parents happy. At any rate, it'll probably get them off my back a little.

And hey, I became Peter Keating a long time ago. May as well keep it that way.

“Oh, Jake,” Brett said, “We could have had such a damned good time together.”

“Yes,” I said. “Isn’t it pretty to think so?”