I wish I was stupid
That I didn’t notice all the pain around me
That I was not a keen observer and deep feeler
I wish that I had a low IQ like broccoli
Laying in the hospital bed, a vegetable
My parents deciding when to pull the plug, “At least he will go to heaven.” They might say

I wish I had the stomach to point to a star in the sky or pick up a grain of sand from the shore and believe that the one in infinity chance was good enough. “I am right. This will save us. It is the best star, the best grain of sand. Truer than all the others. I believe. Improbability be ******.”

I wish things were simple
That I did not feel special, or exempt from the rules of reality
And that I could sleep without nightmares and live without retreating to daydreams.

I wish I was not a cynic
And a pessimist
That I could still hold onto hope
And find beauty even in the harshness and pain

I wish that my faith could be stronger
My belief could be surer
I wish I could not feel the way I do
That I could know love
And find happiness
And accept myself how I am

I wish things would resolve
But like this poem…