In my head. It is all in my head.

Tell me it is in my head.
It is all in my head.
Everything is in my head. That is it.
That is the only place it all resides.
I could live a thousand lifetimes and travel a million continents in my head.
I could explore the universe and another lifetime all in my head.
I could make this mean anything and everything.
I could pivot my entire existence around this one moment
And this one choice,
And maybe it does,
And certainly it doesn’t.
In my head I can make anything out of nothing and nothing into anything and everything into nothing at all. I can make and destroy lifetimes, life forms and imaginations. I can live and die a hundred times in my mind, in my dreams and in my wanderings.

But can I make one thing real.
One good choice,
One honest thought,
When it counts,
To whom it counts?
I can make a mountain of a molehill
And water into wine…
But I no longer drink and can hardly climb a mountain.
So it seems I can’t fully appreciate either.

Tell me it is all in my head…
I dare you!
And I will make a molehill out of you.

Maybe it is all in my head.
But this time it really might be in my body too.
Something more. Something less. An answer. A reason.
And the explanation that takes everything away.
That ridiculous obnoxious phrase, “You don’t know what you want until you can’t have it…" Or something like it is obnoxious for precisely the reason that it is so accurate. But it doesn’t help you when you come to learn you can’t have it.
And I can’t or so it seems.
Now or ever--
Even in my head.

So what is all in my head now?
The possibility,
Or the
Impossibility?

The dread and fear that the prognosis is right makes me hungry.
The resolute and ambivalent optimism makes me dizzy.

Faith and trust have given way to science.
And yet I still feel like I have some sort of choice to make.
I know the right one.
And hate it
For its promise and for its futility.

What if you can’t have that thing you want most in the world that you never knew you wanted?