Remember your dream when you were a little kid? You pretend like you've forgotten it, like it's unimportant. YOUR dream. Every so often it resurfaces like a shark fin in a clear Caribbean ocean, but you pretend you only see a flutter of an eye lash.
I know you know.
And you're preaching to the choir, my friend. I already know why you let it go. It's the same reason I let it go (before I acknowledged it once again.)
Because you're too old.
You're too young.
You weren't born in the right city.
You weren't born in the right country.
You were born to the wrong parents.
No one ever taught you how.
You didn't have the natural talent.
You didn't have the time.
You don't have the money.
You'll never be good enough.
Everyone is already ahead of you.
People will think you you are crazy, naive, childish, stupid.
You might fail,
(SPOILER ALERT!) I just finished watching The Theory of Everything, the story about Steven Hawking's life. He is paralyzed, breathes through a tube in his throat, uses a tiny muscle in his cheek as his only form of communication, and yet he still manages to lead the academic research on Cosmology at Cambridge, wrote a book that sold millions of copies about the the general theory of relativity and quantum mechanics (fluffy subject matter, I'm sure), fathers three children, loves his wife, and continues to inspire millions daily.
And those are your excuses. Really?