I wish I was a better dancer.
I wish I was fluent in at least one more language.
I wish I had less hair on my body and more on my head.
I wish my arms didn't seem genetically opposed to building muscle.
I wish I only had to eat for fun, because sometimes it is a chore to feed myself for necessity.
I wish living wasn't so expensive.
I wish dying wasn't so expected.
I wish I could fly.
I wish I could trade every one of these wishes for just this one: to a source of comfort for every friend that ever was in need. Because I am tired of coming up short on answers, when asked: "why is the world so heavy? Why do I have to carry it?"
I just sit with the discomfort of that question. Hating every piece of trite I would like to say, but don't. Not for fear of being wrong. Worse. For fear of being right: that the struggle is the gig. That the burden is the gift.
I wish, if I only had one wish, that I could ease the pain of every friend in need.
And I'm not sure what that looks like.
If I had two wishes, it would be that and flying. I really want to know what clouds feels like.
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