Animation

I have always wanted to be an animator.
Even when I hadn't had verbalize it, I knew I wanted to do it deep down.
I looked at those destroyed people working in a studio, and I couldn't help thinking that I wouldn't mind destroying myself that way.
I wanted to. Work my fingers to the bone, I mean.
I just feel that aftertaste of deception whenever I think about doing any other profession. Am I infantile? Is this connection with drawings moving something I can grow out of?
I wished I saw it as a mere hobby. I know a lot of people that see it that way.
I don't even know why I feel so attached to it. I was never suppose to be the artsy kid. I'm good with maths, actually, I can take interest in nearly everything.
But I have poor time management skills.
I CAN'T LEAVE MY HOMECOUNTRY
I didn't feel like myself there. English is such a weird language. It feels easier to talk about emotional topics.
Look at how I write. "I, I, I." Such an egoistic being.


I keep praying (even though I don't believe in God) for an afterlife in which I have all the time in the world to pursue anything I want. How to carve wood, speak the language my grandmother speak, sew, dance, sing...
But what if this is the only shot I got? What if existence just lacks fairness? Or maybe the gift (even though I don't believe anyone delivered it to me) of life is enough fairness. Who knows.
I don't want to waste my shot in something I don't want to do. But I also don't want to rely on my parents money in order to pursue that dream.
I hate the word dream. I want something palpable, something real.



I am sorry. My head is a mess