Paytan Douglas

Anything — is — possible.

If you have the right tools to achieve your goal, that is.

Isn’t that what movies do? Show you the things that can be done? Even if it’s theoretically.

Anything that’s theoretically possible is, possible—you just have to acquire rarer items in order to achieve those theories.

It’s all in how you acquire them.

Determination, intelligence, strength, hope, acceptance to failure, an open mind, technology, currency; if you have enough of each category, and the willpower to achieve your goal—and I mean really achieve it—

Anything. Is. Possible.

Someone very close-minded once told me “he knows” the phrase, “Anything’s possible”;  that, “Everyone knows this,”—and, “Most people know okay?”

Even with that knowledge, he still had no problem shooting down my idea that my guild could become strong. Could gain more players. And someday beat his guild in ranking—since, that’s all that matters in games like that…

Not the trust between players.

Not the fun the members would have whilst playing the game.

Not the stories, the bonuses, or even the memories.

Just ranks was what made a guild strong.

His ignorance amused me.

There was another fellow player in the chatroom, one who saw both sides of the argument, but had no troubles in picking one. His words were:

“For some things I completely agree with you, but unfortunately that isn’t entirely true and the faster you learn that the better you’ll be in.      Life.      That’s completely truthful advice…hey, to each their own, just speaking from life experience. Do what you have to do to fulfill what you want.”

Even though this man saw my perspective, he still chose harsh reality over fantasy.

In a dream world, maybe the Guild Leader would hand the guild over to someone else; one who didn’t care about recruiting and rankings—one with less motivation and goals—a weaker mindset.

Or, their guild could be disassembled altogether, for one. Their guild could have started a war (of words) with another, and both masters would be forced to disassemble their guilds for “ill-mannered intentions amongst players.”

These are possible things. Even though they aren’t very probable…

That doesn’t mean impossible…

We know this from people who gamble. Although the chances of them winning one million dollars isn’t very high, someone, somewhere, at sometime, has done it.

And gamblers still try to be that someone.

Why?

Why do those gamblers try to be that someone?

Some might say they are foolish for trying to achieve the unlikely.

Not me.

Not ever.

As long as there is still someone, somewhere, at sometime, who wins every day…

I will continue to strive for my dreams.

For the “impossible” to become “plausible”.

For the “improbable” to become “unavoidable”.

And for the “unimaginable” to become “achievable”.

Determination, intelligence, strength, hope, acceptance of failure, an open mind, technology, and currency.

If you have enough of each category, along with the willpower to really achieve your goal…

Anything.   Is.   Possible.

Whilst I wrote this, My Lady urged me to get in the shower, to brush my teeth, and to go to bed. Not once when she asked me her repeating question did I answer. Our conversation flowed like so:

“You need to get in the shower.”

“Inspiration struck. I can’t stop writing—not now.”

“It’s eleven o’clock at night. You need to go to sleep.”

“I will. Once I’m done.”

My Lady stared at me angrily as overlapping words were thrown at one another.

After a short silence, I asked, “Would you like to read it?”

She replied, “I would like you to get in the shower.”

I retorted, “And I would like you to read my work. It will change your perspective.”

“Do you feel better after writing it?”

A silence.

“Would you like to read it and feel better?”

“No. I’d like it if you went to bed.”

“Can you please read it? It’ll open your mind and eyes.”

“No. I’m tired. I’m not going to read it tonight.”

“Who said you would be able to read it tomorrow?”

A glare. Then a sigh.

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter. As long as you feel better writing it.”

“Who said I felt better?”

Another glare.

“I’m going to bed. Get in the shower, brush your teeth, and go to sleep.”

My Lady’s perspective was very small, from mine. I had told her it was only three pages at the time, and that one was mainly empty spaces, once combining them all.

No matter how much I had wanted her to read my work, she refused. Telling me, “Not tonight,” and, “I’m tired,” or telling me to prepare myself for bed.

To me, those words stung worse than a whip.

Tomorrow is never guaranteed—not for anyone.

If tomorrow never came for me or her, neither would be happy.

At least, I would not be.

If I passed, she would never be able to read my work without a password to my account. And if she passed, she wouldn’t be able to read my work in the afterlife.

It was a lose-lose for me.

I’m still not sure if she will ever read this, and probably never will be.

But one thing is for sure.

I would really enjoy it if she did.

Philosophy is a mysterious thing. It is basically a never-ending game of “debation,” “trickery,” “confusion,” and “theories.”

Maybe that is why I enjoy it so much.

Maybe that is why she wouldn’t read it right then and there.

Even if it would make her a little more open-minded, if one doesn’t like philosophy, then they could never truly enjoy it.

But I will.

I can, and I will.

Always. And Forever.