I was experiencing another sleepless night when I decided to climb up to my apartment rooftop. I don’t do this enough – it’s beautiful up there, especially early in the morning when you’re pretty positive no one else is even up to enjoy the sights you’re getting to see. I could spend hours just, gazing.
Oddly enough, I saw this gratuitously bright shooting star. Being in the city, there’s typically only a handful of visible stars in the sky, so the fact that I just witnessed a shooting star was literally blowing my half-awake mind. I tried to think of a really good wish, but the shooting star had surprised me and I didn’t really have any good wishes on deck, so I wished for the first semi-intelligible thing that came to mind: for the rest of my life to be totally awesome.
As soon as that ham-fisted jumble of words left my mouth, I immediately started thinking of all the ways my wish could backfire and how the phrase “I wish that the rest of my life is totally awesome” could be misinterpreted and taken out of context and turned around to cause me great misery. I silently berated myself for not choosing my words more carefully. I could have used this opportunity to secure a bright and safe future for myself or my loved ones or wished for a genie to give me a million more wishes but no, I was stupid and just blurted out the first dumb thing to barge into my head. I could still fall off this apartment roof in a somehow awesome fashion, and my wish would be granted. In conclusion, I’d just obviously wasted my wish and possibly also earned myself an untimely death and/or a crippling brain injury.
I was consumed by anxiety over whether the Wish Goddess (I feel like it would be a female … just saying) was going to screw me out of my wish through a technical loophole involving death, brain damage or prolonged unconsciousness.
It made me feel slightly uncomfortable that I’m the person making all the decisions about my life, shooting star wishes or not.
Nobody wants to screw up their life, but I sort of feel like some things have to be screwed up in order to live correctly. Does that make sense? I’m going to do things wrong and learn the hard way sometimes. Duh. Tell me something I haven’t known since 2nd grade. And as slightly unnerving as that is, knowing I’m going to mess up – it’s also slightly calming, knowing that everyone’s supposed to mess up sometimes.
Thanks, wish goddess. My life is totally awesome.
Please don’t kill me now.