Want to know what I wish for? I wish for a bra that wouldn't puncture a lung whenever I moved. It would be nice if I had one that was so comfortable, I could sleep in it. I mean come on, I feel like I'm suffocating here. I can't go up a size because it won't fit. If only, if only.

I always thought love was a feeling. But it isn’t. Love isn’t even an emotion. Part of the reason love is so indescribable, and so misunderstood, is because love is an action. It’s something you do, is to love. I can tell you that when I’m hungry, my stomach feels like a mountain avalanche is happening inside of it; rumbling and shaking and growling, screaming to be fed. But when I’m driving, it’s so hard to explain that to someone who’s never driven before. I just drive. Start the car, change my gears, accelerate, brakes, turn signal, whatever. I just drive. I can’t explain well enough how I drive. And everyone has different ways that they explain how they drive, but it’s hard to understand until you do it yourself; then you have your own way of explaining it. That’s love. The problem with that is, you can love just about anyone or anything. I love my mom and dad. I love my sisters and brothers. I love my cat and my dog. I love my car, roses, the smell of New York City, chocolate, cheese, being warm in the winter. I love all of these things, but there is no way to really measure that love. Do I love cheese more than I love flowers? Do I love my mom more than my dad or my sisters or brothers? Just because I have any favorites, does that mean I love the color yellow any less than I love my new shoes? Love isn’t less or more. What you’re willing to do for the things and people you love, that’s what matters. I’d be willing to learn to fly using just my own two arms for my mom, I’d be willing to walk the long way home for my brand-new shoes, and I’d be willing to climb 70 feet to save my cats. If these things weigh differently for you, they may weigh the same for someone else, or in different ways. I can tell you, when I’m sad, I want to cry, I want to lock myself away, and I want to be alone. When I love, I want to save the world. Their world. Whatever it is that I love, I want to save it from harm, even from a speck of dirt. When I love, I don’t feel anything inside of me. Love isn’t how romance novels make it out to be. My heart doesn’t flutter, and I don’t lose my breath when I hear someone say, “I love you.” I don’t feel nervous to say it back anymore. I’ve only been nervous to say it to people I date. Because what if I don’t love them. What if I’m only saying it to feel something, to feel what love-story novelists say I’m supposed to feel. What if I force myself to feel that way, what if I’m tricking myself. That was before I knew the feeling doesn’t matter. What would you be willing to do for the people you love? What would you be willing to do for the people you think you love? What would I be willing to do for her? Would I be willing to fly?

And to think

I knew only a small part of him

Before I lost him:

I wish I could have memorized his smile

Because now when I dream of him I can only see one thing at a time:

His eyes, his hair, his hands

And it's hard to know someone when all I have left of him is a few pictures and a fragmented memory.

But you. You are different.

I am beginning to know all of you

Even the parts I don't like:

The ways in which you're an unsteady ship

Sometimes drifting towards me, sometimes far away.

I have memorized your formula for small talk,

Your changing eyes,

Your unforgettable smile

but when I look at you I can only see one part of you at a time:

your eyes, your hair, your hands

When I think of you I see you in your entirity,

and I see flowers growing

and I see hope left for us.

With you so closeby I can hardly breathe,

With you so far away I can hardly think.

As you become more real

he fades away,

until all I have left is his still, unmoving picture

his unchanging eyes

and forgettable smile.

Wishful thinking when you’re down

Can help to prevent a frown

You should always try and strive

To keep your hopes and dreams alive

Always wish for the best

And hold your head high above the rest.

I’m grateful that…

1. I’m alone right now.

2. The temperature is well above freezing.

3. T. is home for the holidays.

4. I get to spend Christmas not only with T and the kids but also with my parents and my sister’s family, for the second year in a row.

5. I will soon hold my little niece, S., in my arms.

6. T. and I will have 3 days and nights to ourselves in London.

7. I will see the Christmas lights of London again.

8. My Stargazer piece will be published, and I will win 20,000 euros.

9. My book will be written by the end of February.

10. I will be a published author by my 45th birthday.

#wishfulthinking #challenge

I dream of mountains of gold

I dream of having diamonds in my possession

I dream of finding love and stability

I dream of building strong relationships

I dream of everything I could ever want

But those are only dreams

Because those dreams are nothing but empty wishes

Wishful thinking is hoping my brother will ever speak to me again because he wants to not because circumstance has forced him. Wishful thinking is waiting for my mother to apologize for helping my first husband take my first two children from me, then tell them I was dead. Wishful thinking is wishing that I'd made amends with my second husband before he died, so that his daughter would have had a chance to say goodbye. Wishful thinking is thinking my family will ever really be a family again.

And though some of these can never happen, and most likely all will never, ever come to pass, I can't help but fall into wishful thinking. I can't help but want my brother and I to talk like when we were kids and I felt like he was a twin born eight years before me. I can't help but want my mother to love me without condition and to know that what she did hurt me and was wrong. I can't help but want to hear "I'm sorry." And I can't help but want to take away my daughters hurt when she found her dad and it was too late.

So I keep on with my wishful thinking. I keep on hoping that we will find a way to say the things that we all were born to, like " I love you "and "you matter" and "I care". I know one day my daughter and her father will share the words they didn't on this earth and that one day I will have the family I was born to. And I keep on with wishful thinking and hope that they do too.

Hope. Despair. Discouragement. Passion. Faith. Love. These are just some of the emotions that make us who we are. These are the things that make us human. Without them, we are colorless. We are grey. We have no hope. We have no future. We need love to give to other people around us. We need hope because even on the darkest day, we can hope for a light to show us the way. We need to care for others when you still have it in your grasp. There is no need for despair, save when the second death happens. Because the bad things in our life cause us to look for a greater power. Be encouraged. You can pass this test. Other people have faced the same tests and have overcome. Without passion, what is there? No passion for living? But just to become a robot of life going through the motions? We have to have faith in a better future, faith that it gets better, we have to have faith in people. We need love. The very essence of human beings crave love, for without love we are nothing. Perfect love casts out fear. With love, there is no fear. With love, we are bright. With love, we can smile a genuine smile. With love, we can laugh. With love, we can accomplish anything. With love, life is worth living. Without emotions, we are not human. But with them, we can shape the world into whatever image we can imagine.

You read to me

Your voice mercilessly teasing

I hear the words you speak

They drip from your mouth like honey

I watch as you softly lick your lips

Turn the pages with moist finger tips

I reach for your delicate hand

You take it away

Enjoying the game you so often play

You smile at me then stop reading

Leaving my mind secretly needing

I want you I know you can feel it

Taunting me you just quietly sit

I can see your bed all neatly made

White sheets pressed like a sharp new blade

I long to lie within them buried within your caress

To end this silence with sensuous noise and undress

My hands long to touch to gently feel

All you hold secret and so innocently conceal

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