Cockblocked

I don't know what the future holds ... the more I think about it, the more I lose the belief that I do know.

Every so often my dreams come crashing down. I want to be a screenwriter. I want to be a director. I want to have a work of art stick around after I've kicked the bucket. I have dozens upon dozens of ideas that could be made into films or plays or TV series. But those ideas are always cockblocked by the refusal of my peers to cooperate with me and wait out the chaos in order to see the end triumph.

What will happen to me if I really do fail? Will I be allowed a quick, merciful death? Will I be rewarded for my efforts in a way different from what I was looking for? Or will I be dragged through another century of the same old crap?

So far there is only one person that can make everything right. She walked away from me a long time ago, never to return.