Like that poor cat my dreams find themselves in a superposition, dead and alive all at the same time.

I keep my dreams in a box, away from observation that decides their fate, choosing to dwell in the possibility of them being alive. its not as satisfying as actually seeing em come to life, but its safer and comforting, its what im used to.

So everyday i choose to fantasize, live in a limbo of dreams, goals and desires, a world where the shit i want is plausible. A yet to be manifested version of the future where things work out.

Like that poor poor cat who’s fate isn't clear till one lifts the box to observe it. My dreams remain in between worlds, possibilities. They could hit or flop. I can secure the bag or fumble it hard. I could get the girl or get ghosted.

Only way to actually experience the fullness of the happy path is to observe reality. To lift the box and see the superposition collapse to its final form.

I realize what i must do.