His Dream

The wind blew as Noah sat on the cliff side, watching the waves clash against the rocky walls of the overhang, his curly strawberry blonde hair dancing with the breeze, his mind buzzing like the bees in the tree that he had been leaning on. He'd been conflicted for the past couple of days, not knowing how to solve the problem that he was having, Noah had had a drive for the past few months, a drive that couldn't be satisfied with until he took it to his limit, he wanted to become the best writer that he could, to be proud of the thought of being the best, but there was a problem. Everyone around him didn't quite know that he liked to write, nobody knew about his dream, because each and every last one of them had denied it when he proposed the idea, even his own parents. "Where is writing going to get you in life?" his mother had asked him, "Why write when you can fight for your own country?" his dad replied, "So your plan is to become gay?!" his brother laughed, "Are you even skilled enough to be a writer?" his friends teased. His head began to hurt as stress veins popped out of his temples, his knees coming up to meet his head as both hands strained and pulled at his hair. 'I can't do this' he thought, 'A joke, I'm nothing but a joke!' tears began tracing down his face, his teeth gritting and grinding. Then, silence... he stopped thinking for a few moments and looked up at the horizon, watching as the birds flew through the sky's orange haze, and he smiled. Even though the trails of tears marked his face, he smiled, got to his feet and shook the thoughts away, "This is my dream and my dream only, and I WILL achieve it!" he said, fixing his hair as he began the long walk home.