I wish I could fly.
Like Peter Pan soaring off to Neverland with a trail of pixie dust and a girl in a blue dress not far behind.
I wish I could slow down my mind.
Shhhh it to sleep with a lullaby sung by a chorus of whales that spout bubbles made of ambien.
I wish I could express myself fully.
Complete my final sentence and burst into flames, rising as a phoenix from the remnants of my former unexpressive self, using the pages of my yellow legal pad for wings.
I wish I could travel back in time.
Warn my past-self that the love of my life was about to douse my heart with gasoline and toss a match to it, so perhaps I should stock up on buckets and buckets and buckets of water to prevent her from burning a hole through my chest.
But I can wish and wish for a million things and none of them will come true...
For it is Fear, not Wishing, that is the most powerful of all summoning forces.
If I fear something happening, inevitably it will.
If I fear my girlfriend cheating on me, she will.
If I fear my family falling apart, it will.
If I fear that my art is not good enough and that it will fail me when I need it most, it will.
Fear runs rampant through my life, a headless horseman wrecking everything in its path, hooves black with the mud of my insecurities.
It takes that which is joyful and good and taints it with curly wisps of smoky what-if’s.
These what-if’s are quiet, barely noticeable alone.
But together-what if he's lying what if she doesn't really love you what if you aren't as strong as you think you are what if you're not good enough-the venom of a thousand copperhead snakes has nothing on the poison of these questions.
So who then will be my David and slay this giant Fear, that appears only when it is most unwelcome?
No one will be.
No one can.
Indeed, no one person can save me from something that comes from within myself.
Instead, the answer appears in the form of my own tiny light.
Admittedly, it is a very small light, but even the tiniest of twinkles can penetrate the deepest darkness.
And once this Hope has presented itself, glowing like a little firefly flashing in the nighttime of my breast; even when I can’t see it, I know that it is there.
And it is stronger than Wishing, because a wish is an impossibility before it has even left my mouth.
I wish I could fly.
I wish I were Peter Pan.
I know these wishes will not come true even before I have reached into my pocket to feel for the quarter that will sink to the bottom of the fountain.
But Hope...Hope is a certainty that outmatches even fear.
It is a certainty because it is based on the logic of what has passed.
Things will get better.
I will improve.
Doors can open.
I know these things to be true because they have happened once before and will happen again.
The proof lies in the knowledge that there is always air just above the surface of the water.
And if you can only hold your breath long enough, you will eventually get there.
Fear, for all the droves of barristers it has arguing its case constantly in my head, is not based in what has happened.
It is predicated solely on the notion that I can predict the future.
And I am no prophet, though my imagination tends to disagree.
Fear has no flesh and blood supporters; it has no human advocate in this world fighting for its cause.
But the existence of Hope is championed by everyone that I love and that is a magic that’s easy to believe in.
So I arm myself with a dagger made of past triumphs, and pixie dust from those who love me most.
And Captain Hook doesn’t stand a chance
