Fucking shattered dreams

It happens every time: I get back from a trip and crash in emotions of hopelessness. It's been getting worse every time I come back, this time... I don't know. I can't seem to get my shit together. I've been pretty strong and I haven't talked to any friends or family about these feelings, because I know they must be tired of the same thing coming from me. So I've kept it to myself. I don't know if that's what's making it worse or the fact that I really am not able to live like this anymore. Or maybe it's the fact that my deadline is getting closer and now I feel like I will not be able to do it, to break free and just go look for my life, to find a solution to this fucking problem I never asked for in the first place. I keep thinking I can do this, but then all the talks with people come to my head and bombard me with thoughts of "You can't do this one alone, someone will have to rescue you and it will be business and you will have to put up with that other fucking problem that, even when it'll be better than your current problem, won't bring you freedom."

I just want to stop thinking about all this shit. But I can't. I cannot get it out of my head. I have tried everything. I just want to cry now. I can't even work. My mind is unable to focus on the task at hand, like nothing matters. I'm afraid this has messed up everything. Will I ever be able to focus on anything?

Then I start that conversation in my head, that one that tells me to stop complaining because I'm so much better off than so many others. The one that tells me that I should just suck it up and deal with things as they are right now, that I should be content with life as I have it now. And I am, I'm not unhappy, but I just want better. Because I know I can DO better. I could be SO good at so many things, if I could just have the opportunity to do.

Then I get random song on my iPod that make me think someone's paying attention (Michael Jackson's "Keep The Faith" just started playing. I - am - not - shitting - you. Kind of like that one time that "No Woman, No Cry" started playing when I was crying at this same desk.)

Why can't I not live my dreams right now.. I keep thinking of how wonderful would it be to work at the LACMA, or work at a university, or work for Venice Arts, or write for the alt newspaper in Santa Barbara, or start a business in Ventura or Malibu, or work for GOOD Inc, or photograph for Rolling Stone or some band, or how great I could be at being the social media director for any organization I care about, or how awesome I would be at public relations, or what if I could just take a newspaper editor job in a small town somewhere (ok, maybe not that one).

Would I be happier if I didn't have these dreams.. maybe I just need to shut up.