What is going through my head?

It’s 1:30 in the morning and I have to go to work tomorrow, and madness spins through my brain, like a whirlwind of deranged birds.

Hope. You can’t eat hope, is the problem. Hope doesn’t pay the bills. It doesn’t keep you warm in the middle of the night when the gas company shuts your heat off. Hope won’t make you smarter, stronger, wiser, faster.

And, yet, the possibilities are exponential.

Can I just hang on to this random scintillating spark of hope? Can I continue to wish uninterrupted, and dream of impossibilities?

Maybe not in this life, nor the next, but at least let me pretend?