Turmoil.

A part of me would like to take a leap.

Yet, another portion of my amygdala cautions against wielding too much Hope.

Without Expectations, there can be no Disappointment.

But then again, that's the very stuff that Dreams are made of, isn't it?

What are Dreams, if they're not hinged on Hope?

What is Life, if it's void of Dreams?

I Dream.

I Hope.

I Wish.

But would it be Wishful Thinking?

Would it dissipate into Hurt yet again?

I'd given up The Boy in The Past & fled when He pursued. I'd teared when The Boy drifted away into oblivion and cheered when he returned.

I don't know what to make of recent events & surprises by The Boy.

I Wish and yet, I fear having this wish, choosing at times to dismiss it as my own sheer folly for harbouring such thoughts.

I've not given up on The Boy,

But has The Boy given up on Me?