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I Am Obsessed With Miracles
It may seem hard, but that can’t stop me from hoping.
There’s a strange kind of courage and an ability to trust involved in believing in something that appears too impossible to become real.
Reality may tell a different story; every path to get there may seem unapologetically complicated; it may be filled with hurdles as huge as rocks to clear; it may involve people who aren’t easily convinced; it holds impediments that my fingers aren’t enough to count.
Everything between me and the life that seems impossible may contain only things that justify unloving my wishes and feel like warning me to forget attaining it.
If I do the math in any direction, the distance between me and the life that seems hardly possible remains the same; I can’t see anything definite that assures me of its turning real.
No matter how intensely I watch them becoming true in my head, it doesn’t automatically shrink the distance between me and life in reality or the obstacles that sit between them.
But none of those hurdles is capable of making me stop wishing for the life that seems impossible. Nothing could make me step back or give up on my dreams and desires.
