Wishing on Paper Planes

I am only as good as the people in the room. I hate that. I will not lift you out of your funk. I will not supply laughter where there is none. I will not be the one to bring the light with me if you want to wallow in darkness. I am only as good as the people in the room. But I want to be better. I wish I laughed more easily. I wish I had dreams. Then I could make plans to get to them. I wish I recalled memories filled with joy when I reminisced, imagining everything my life could be, content with what it is. I wish I threw paper planes with the future scrawled in their folds and competed to see just how far I would go. I wish I could watch the rise and fall of my journey, inhaling and exhaling the way the love of my life breathes deeply in sleep right next to me. The way I imagine he would. And I wish I didn’t wish to be free of loneliness by picturing a fictional you at my side. I wish I found freedom in the single me that I am and balanced myself on a seesaw by having the courage to stand at its fulcrum. I wish I didn’t wither at every unexpected turn but found myself walking on tightropes and falling from airplanes and landing in a pile of adrenaline on mountaintops that kiss the clouds. I wonder if the scale would tip too far if I jumped into the pool before I knew how to swim. But I am still here instead of where I could be. What do the paper planes say? Learn to be free of the people in the room.