Lose your dreams & you will lose your mind

I'm going into some heavy, real talk here. It includes angst and emotions. You've been warned.

Yesterday, i bought a suit for my interview. First, I grabbed the size I assumed I'd be but when I tried it on, I found I was a size smaller. That's always a good feeling. I looked in the mirror and didn't recognize myself. It was like a costume. I have a whole ensemble now: suit, blouse, shoes and portfolio clutch bag thing. I look professional so I think that will help make me feel more confident. While on the job search, I've been collecting advice from people, sometimes asked for and sometimes not. I feel like it's important to listen to everyone's opinions and glean from the pile what I find relates to me and is useful. I might be looking at this the wrong way but it seems that being successful all boils down to being someone I’m not, pretending I care about things I hate and lying to everyone’s face but this is all fine because I should just think of it all as a big game I'm trying to win. Great. The problem is I'm not competitive. Ideally, I want everyone to win or at least feel like they're winning. I know how bad it feels to lose. I guess at this point in my life I'm ok with 'playing the game' a little, mostly because I need to get some money together and move out of my parent's apartment. I'm still at the point where I'm trying to figure out exactly what I want to do with the rest of my life. It has been my dream for a long time now to get paid to be a writer (in some form or another). A few minutes ago, my father was just dispensing some golden nuggets of working wisdom. I was listening but also saying that although I will do or say the things he suggested, none of it is authentic. Of course, I have to act and make people believe that it is. This led to an attack on all I hold dear. He said I might as well go get my birkenstocks and take up pottery for a living. To sum up, he told me while it would be nice if someone paid me to write stories, that is (here I interjected 'not going to happen now, I know' but he added:) never, ever going to happen because no one reads anymore and if they do it's garbage celebrity gossip or crap on the internet. In feeble defense I said that people do read, just look around on the subway. I mean even I was surprised to see the amount of books there. To undercut yet again, he said yes but I only think that because we live in New York City, people in middle america don't read. Sigh. I really don't know anymore. It's so hard defending this dream to myself half the time that having some one who is supposed to be supporting you tell you that what you truly want in life is impossible really hits straight to the heart. I'm insecure enough about my ability as a writer that hearing it's completely unattainable hurts a lot. Living here has been a battle of trying to stay optimistic and hopeful in a total negative environment. My parents can hide it will in front of family and friends but they are completely and deeply miserable majority of the time. I feel I've evolved over the past few years but I understand how I slipped so easily into deep depression during high school. Now, I think I'm sort of having a existential crisis in a way. Is this all there is? I really need to move far, far away from here.