Another roadblock

Do you ever have those days when you feel like you are walking in place? Like no matter how fast you move your feet and run, the world simply won't move with you?
That was my Monday. I hated my Monday.
For the past year now I have been trying to figure out where I am going with my career. I want to be a writer, don't get me wrong, but there are so many parts of being a journalist that wear you down. The hours are long, the pay is shit and your acknowledgement is nothing more than a silent reminder that people read what you write.
What is depressing though about these things is I knew they would all be part of my career, I just used to think it was cool. I thought there was something so slick about not caring about the pay or gratitude. Back then, to me, it meant that I was only in this job for the job. I wanted to write. I wanted people to read what I wrote. And that was all I needed at the end of the day.
But then the 15 hour days started to add up, more time was taken away from my family and friends and everything started to feel unaffordable--no matter how simple or inexpensive.
It's been hard for me to find my place as a journalist as well.
I like to write beyond taxes, TIFs, bond issuances and referendums. I like to write what makes me feel like I have done something that fucking matters when I get it down on paper. I like to feel emotion when I write. I like when I have so many thoughts going through my head that my biggest problem isn't writer's block, it is getting my fingers to work fast enough with my mind.
Maybe that's why I keep coming back. I like to write about the kid down the street that just learned what it feel likes to run for the first time because his legs never worked the way they were suppose to. Or to tell the story about the homeless man who sleeps in the train station and everyone thinks he is a drunk but really his family left him when he was just a teen. I love absolutely love community journalism I guess is what I am getting at. And I 100 percent by paper is one of the best community papers out there for a starting journalist to be at.
But are people really listening to those stories? Or are they like all the other tainted individuals who pass up emotional stories because they have heard them all before and having no attention left to give them?
I find myself asking this over and over again. WHO IS REALLY LISTENING?