You are so full of potential. You are so bright, and witty, and beautiful -to me. Your eyes stun me, your eloquent speech freezes me, and I’ve been stuck in some trance of it for quite some time.
I wish you’d write. To her, to me, to God, to an audience of a thousand, or an audience of one. I wish you’d do what you love without repression or apprehension.
I wish you’d be happy; so happy. And, more than that, I wish you’d find such belonging as I have; I hope you find something unfailing, as I have.
But what is the point of saying “I wish” or “I hope” when I can see its unlikelihood.
The only person who can change you, is you. And you need change. Frightening amounts of change. I cannot push it on you, I cannot pull the bad from you and push the good into you. I can only be here for you, as a positive light, trailing through the center of your dark painting. But, that’s egotistical. I’m not in the center, I know that. I’m off in the corner. Distracting the eye occasionally, pulling it to the corner of the painting, then the eye returns to the point of the painting; the darkness. But I’m still there. Eagerly, always.
So, wishes, hope, the silly feelings … Forget those. Be active in changing your condition. Shine some sunlight on yourself, grow, and stop hiding in the shadow section of the box.