World of Possibilities

So many of them lying around, waiting for people with courage to come pick them up. 

Or so we think. 

Perhaps it’s just me. 

Again, it could just be me.

But how is it that in a world, in which we are told to have unlimited possibilities, I feel so limited?

How is it that I feel like I’m facing dead ends left and right?

Where is this unseen door I’m supposed to unlock?

I grew up with the idea that possibilities are friends. They are everywhere as long as I dare to look. They are ideas and opportunities, and they give us more in life than we believe we already have. 

But what about those moments during which you wake up and you feel like there is nothing, literally zero, that you can do. That everything is not possible. That your life is full of impossible options that they should never be options anymore? 

Like you think everything being sold to you is a lie? 

I woke up feeling cold. Empty handed. And dying. 

Not because I was ill. But because I felt myself hitting dead ends. 

Possibilities, meet boundaries. 

What some of us weren’t told growing up was the fact that opportunities and ideas could sometimes move in only certain space. 

One of my good friends is an excellent scientist. She was one of the best in her class, if not the best, and entering her university she had been told that she had high probability of receiving scholarship. 

However, she was later denied the scholarship because the male students were more important. 

She had had such high hopes. She had all the skills and requirements. She went above and beyond. Everyone thought she’d have gotten it. Not the guy who barely passed and couldn’t even present a good research to the board. 

She had everything and more to have what was told to be hers in high percentage. Only missed the right sex. 

And when she had thought that was all, she was mistaken. She constantly lost opportunities to men who were not even half as qualified as she had been, and she had been stripped off the world of possibilities. 

Then she woke up feeling empty for the rest of her life. 

Now, happy ending might come her way. And I pray so too for her sake; however, how many times do we feel the same deep cut?

I grew up believing that even if the chance of getting something was 0.01%, it was wonderful. Because anything was possible. Miracles happened. 

But, what were the odds in my favor?

Now, anything predicted less than a significantly large number, such as 60% above, we grew scared of going for. 

We had learned our lesson. We had seen too many failures and dead hopes. 

And we certainly would not want to risk our lives for something probable. Something possible.

Possible means nothing now. Possible means it could be the most difficult thing you would do, and chances are you’d lose. 

Now, go for it.