Hope baiting myself

There's a thing I want, and it sits so far past my reach that I'm almost embarrassed to say it out loud. Not because it's silly, but because saying it makes it real, and real things can disappoint you.

Still, I want it. I want it in the quiet moments, in the shower, on the bus, in the last minute before sleep when the mind stops guarding itself. I picture it so clearly that for a second my chest warms up as if it's already mine. Then reality taps me on the shoulder and says, "Cute. Now look at where you actually are."

And I do look. I see the distance. I see how many things would have to go right, how many doors would have to open that I'm not even sure exist. The sensible part of me whispers, "Be realistic. Want smaller. Want safer." It's not wrong, which is what makes it so annoying.

But here's what nobody tells you about craving something far away: it doesn't switch off just because it's unreasonable. Wanting isn't a spreadsheet. It doesn't check my odds before it shows up. It just arrives, stubborn and bright, and refuses to leave.

So I do the ridiculous thing. I hope. I whisper it to the universe, write it in the corner of a notebook, say "manifest" half as a joke and half as a prayer. And yes, I know the universe is not sitting there taking notes. I know wishing alone has never paid a single bill or cleared a single exam. I'm not that naive.

But I also notice something. The wanting pulls me. On the days I let myself believe it's possible, I sit a little straighter. I try a little harder. I take one step I'd have skipped otherwise. Maybe that's the real magic, not that the thing comes to me, but that I start walking toward it, crooked and unsure, while still doubting every step.

Maybe the craving isn't a cruel joke. Maybe it's a compass. It doesn't promise I'll arrive. It only insists on a direction, and refuses to let me settle in a place where I stopped wanting.

So I'll keep wanting it. Loudly in my head, quietly in public. I'll keep the hope small enough to carry and big enough to matter.

And if it never comes? Then at least I'll have become someone who reached for it.

That's not nothing. That might be everything.

P.s. the picture is a ss of my currect fav song