Should've and Would've

When I decided to become a movie star, I was five. The frilly skirts and starlet shades quickly captured my life and imagination. The "fans" would sit in plastic skirts and scratchy fabric shirts, and they would watch in adoration through painted blue and green eyes. Their lashes reached their silky smooth foreheads and the makeup was there to stay. My parents told me to become successful and make lots of money. But all movie stars are rich, aren't they?

When I decided to become a painter, I was ten. Mixing colours became the brightness of my day and even the murkiest of browns was beautiful in my young eyes. The crudely drawn four-legged creature on a white background slowly but surely morphed into a small kitten chasing a ball of yarn in the family room. The kitten's eyes grew more prominent. They were the dark blue of sapphires and captured a white sparkle from the bristles of my tool. Then the whiskers, and then every... last... hair... My parents told me to become successful and make lots of money. But all painters are rich, aren't they?

When I decided to become a fashion designer, I was fifteen. The old sewing machine I'd received for my thirteenth birthday party was dusted off and taken out of its spot in the closet, a feat not many rejected gifts can claim to have experienced. I began sewing patches onto my clothes, making pillows for my bed, and making castoff clothes that I would wear to sleep. The little money I managed to scrape together went to the local fabric store in exchange for beautiful trimmings, and later that year, I even held a job at the fabric cutting counter in the little shop. My parents told me to become successful and make lots of money. But all designers are rich, aren't they?

When I decided to become a bus driver, I was twenty - a college dropout with little more credentials than the ability to safely drive a wide-turning vehicle, paint a fairly decent picture, and make unattractive, simple clothes. Money was scarce, and I began sewing my own clothes with scraps of worn fabric so I could focus on more important things, like the apartment's rent and food to fill the minifridge. I guess my problem was that I was too independent, too ashamed to ask for help, and I kept telling myself that I could make it, I could do it, I could live. My parents tried to help me without associating themselves with someone they couldn't be proud of. Maybe I should've said I was grateful for the little they did.

When I decided to become a failure at life, I was ageless. It wasn't even a decision... I just stopped. My parents stopped trying to help. The money stopped coming. The food stopped growing. The thoughts stopped happening.

I should've stayed in college, I should've said my thank yous, I should've asked for help, I should've been more ambitious, I should've tried harder, I should've, I should've, I should've

Would've