I used to sit at my window at night

wishing on the stars.

I wish I was prettier.

I wish I was skinnier.

I wish I was smarter,

more confident,

more talented.

I wish I had a dad that didn’t hate me,

a brother who protected me,

a mom who wasn’t sick.

I wish I had those shoes that everyone else had.

I wish I fit in.

I still wish those things.

But now my wishes are quieter, heavier.

I wish I had a dad that I didn’t hate,

a mom who was still here.

I wish I didn’t see so much disappointment in the mirror.

I wish I didn’t want those shoes that everyone else has.

I wish I weren’t so lonely

even in a room full of people.

I wish I knew how to live.

I wish I didn’t waste all that hope on things that didn’t fill me.

Did I miss my chance to wish for something deeper

while I still believed wishing worked?

If wishes fell like rain,

then I certainly am a storm.