I just caught myself staring on a bland and unflattering wall inside my room. I noticed myself in a vegetative state: hungry, tired, and empty. I have eaten, and believe me, it is more than an average meal. If anything it was already worth two meals, and I’m still hungry. But maybe the rugae of my stomach is just trying to deceive me into eating more then complain of my glutton eating. I have my share of stomach discomforts. And this year, though is not yet half-way, has me agonized numerous of times already.

My mind is blank. And in blank I mean that I deliberately wanted it blank. I don’t want to think of things that would hassle me. It’s a wonderful hassle by the way, that is why I’m torn between thinking and being blank. Inasmuch as I like to think of things, of possibilities, and wishful nothings, reality just kicks me in the butt. Blank and a vegetative state; a pretty terrible duo to be in for the night. Especially a night where you try to wish, but can’t. Just can’t.

As Oscar Wilde asserted, man can believe the impossible, but never the improbable. I do not know where my wish can be categorized in, but I would like to think that it is in the improbable category. I believe everything is possible. Impossibilities are just something fed up in the minds of the gullible hoping they would believe the ideas of those who offer possibilities. Improbable on the other hand sounds so technical, so scientific, that’s why it is easier to weigh if it could be true or untrue. My wish probably is improbable. That is why I cannot believe it, nor will it to be. But I am, as of this current tick of time, in a content state. Wishing may be all I could do, but at least I did what I wanted to do.

Wishes come true, right? I would like to believe so. But there is still that piece of me that is holding back as to not believing everything, anything anymore. Cautious, if you may call it. I’d like to call it, scared. Currently, I have this anathema for risks. I have decided to risk, but deciding and doing are two diverse things. One is the thinking facet; the other is the acting facet. But what is life without risks? And what are risks if you do not fear of doing it? If you do not fear your risk, then it would not qualify as a risk. For risk entails great courage to take and courage requires fear. As Ambrose Redmoon once said, courage is not the absence of fear, but the judgment that something else is more important than fear. Risks always have a fear factor in them. The fear may be illogical or logical. Bottom line, you are afraid of taking it. But that is the beauty of risking. You may fear, you may cower, and you may shiver as you step into the shadow of the unknown, but you always know that you will be getting out of it alive. Risks make one feel one is alive.

I’m careful of what I must be putting in here. Sometimes I’m too random and spontaneous I tend to forget that maybe, and I hope so, I really hope so, that people are reading this. Wishful thinking? Maybe, but without wishes and dreams and fantasies, life would be bland and unflattering like the wall I stared at awhile ago. I will be greeting my infinitesimal wall when I decide to heed the betrothal of the somnolent grumble of unnatural inventions. There’s been a smorgasbord of thoughts in my mind lately, and I would like to tackle each of them religiously. I don’t want to apace things, as it would only cause qualms. But as of now, let me enjoy the smile that someone brings to me. You know who you are! I just want you to know, you never fail to make me solace amidst the chaotic, desultory and tumultuous flux of thinking. You’ll be who I’ll think before sleep murders me! =]