It’s crossed all our minds. You see someone getting famous for dumb shit on the internet and think, “Well hell, I can do that.” So you put yourself out there. Make a fool of yourself. Lose yourself in the fantasy of ditching that 9-5. But at what point do you step in as a friend and tell them to stop. How long do you allow the charade to carry on knowing they’re shit, and that friends and foes alike text behind their back about how shit they are. The hard truth is that dreams don’t crash and burn in a blaze of glory, they die quietly and unceremoniously.
This kid from my town just put out a poem book. Fancies himself a poet now. He’s been posting samples to all his socials thinking people will repost them like he’s rupi kaur or something. I don’t know how to describe it besides it’s just God awful. I know that’s not a very nice thing to say but he’s a very opinionated and judgmental person so we enjoy laughing behind his back. I wish I could say I respect him for going for it, I really do. But I’m just not that person. The only thing I feel for him is pity. Pity that he doesn’t have a single honest friend to kindly tell him, “Hey man, this shit sucks.” In fact they’re enabling him. Posting their receipts of their $18.95 purchases with captions of, “Support your friends!”. No “Hey buy this book it’s awesome,” captions. Of course not, cause they know.
But then I began to look internally. Glass houses and all.
I have a friend who thinks he’s a beat writer. He Tweets play by plays of games like people are going to him for their sports updates. Not a single like. What do my friends do? Send the Tweets to each other separately like “Who does this motherfucker think he is?” Look if that’s your dream to cover sports, fine. By all means go for it. But maybe you should’ve done more than one year of community college if you were serious about this. Granted, I don’t know how one becomes a beat writer. I don’t think you can major in breaking scoops. Maybe you can gain a large enough following to the point where professional athletes tell you the secrets of their most important life decisions. I just don’t think you can get there by being professional half the time and spending the other half calling potential 14 year olds pussies on the internet for saying Jokic is better than Embiid.
Or how about the friend who’s being held hostage on Tik Tok. A lot of us have that friend forced to make videos at gunpoint by their significant other. Don’t get me wrong, Tik Tok creates more overnight superstars than probably any other platform. But are your couple friends going to buy a mansion because they have a cute puppy while that lasts and they lip sync the same played out trends that every other couple is doing at the time. No. But are you going to tell them that? Not a chance. You’re going to get the videos sent to you, say Jesus Christ under your breath and carry on with your day.
What about me? Who the fuck do I think I am having this moral high ground on chasing dreams? How many hours have I spent in boxers writing out blogs on my iPhone that nobody reads. What’re my odds of doing something I’m passionate about as I crawl my way closer and closer to thirty. Will one of my friends let me know when it’s time to hang ‘em up? No they won’t because I never allowed that option. None of them even know I write blogs.
Be a good friend, remain supportive. Screenshot the embarrassing moments and talk shit behind their backs like ladies and gentlemen. Because the reality is the world needs accountants and roofers and teachers and store managers. Unfortunately for the majority of us, the idea, the fantasy, the pursuit of the dream is going to have to be enough.
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