Stars.

I knew, even when I was little, that wishing on stars wouldn’t work.

As the words of a wish flitted through my lips or across my mind, I knew they were only spots of light.

And yet I wished anyway, just in case.

Some wishes were pointless.

Just thrown out for boredom, or just because I could.

I wished for ponies and puppies and material things.

Others, however, I really wanted to come true.

I wished for my Dad to come home.

For my mother to stop smoking.

For someone to love me and take me away.

What good is a wish? When the only things that hear them are too far away to act, what use is there in wishing?

Certainly not happiness.

Wishes are dreams with a will and a hint of disparity.

I can dream. I can dream very, very well. And therefore it’s plausible that I can wish.

But my dreams, at least, I can create a happy ending for.

A wish is an open-ended question left hanging in the air, waiting for someone to answer back.

I’m sick of waiting, I’m sick of wishing, but unfortunately I act as a Pandora’s box.

I rant, I whine, I doubt, I show nothing short of a lack of faith, and yet…I still have hope.

A wish is a dream that may never come true.

A wish is a question, not always thought out or confident.

A wish is the hope that someone will answer you.

A wish…

I wish…

I wish…

I wish to not need to keep wishing.

Because no matter how much I love the stars, my neck gets a crick if I stare for too long.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Song of the day: “Dream” by Priscilla Ahn