Part of the trouble with people these days might’ve come about because all of us are born with incomplete hearts. It’s true! There are tiny holes in each heart, murmuring softly, breeding inside them hopes and wishes and dreams. It is only in the covering shade of evening sleep that these wishes escape the heart. They run away to the edges of the world, and they cry. They yell tearlessly, joyously, and with love. Like babies do, these dreams will empty their lungs so that we will come looking.

Unfortunately, it seems that today people often disregard these calls, too busy to deal with anyone but those in their appointment books. That’s strange, I think. After all, the dreams aren’t crying because they need us. They cry because we need them. We must find these dreams to plug the holes in our hearts.

It’s certainly important, then, to be mindful of our wishes. We all know that every wish affects the world. And it’s such a small world already, that we must be more careful now.

The world is shrinking, in fact, and I’m afraid to say it’s all my fault.

Maybe I shouldn’t tell you this forgetting. I fear you might think ill of me when you know. But you have to understand that when I was younger I felt very small. My body was so tiny and my want was so much. I just wanted so much! Everything else was so big around me. All these people were so much taller than I was, and they told me what to do. Their legs were bigger, their hands were bigger, and maybe even their hearts were bigger, too. But I couldn’t take it. I have a weak heart, I’m afraid.

The Doctor says that I was born with a weak heart. In fact, when I was born they gave me one month to live. For better or for worse, I am still here. Even today the Doctor keeps reminding me that, given my condition, I am lucky to be alive. So I must apologize, because if I were stronger this wouldn’t have happened. I made a wish, you see. I wished that everyone would be smaller, and that everything would get smaller, and that we’d all be like me.

Of course I didn’t believe that it could happen. I didn’t believe that people could all be the same, could all be so small. But everyone grew smaller around me. It took a long time, all my life, but the whole world became smaller. My parents shrunk to my size. The house became more cramped, the trees, the world, just everything: smaller.

iv. confessions of a wisher You never see adults playing with their toys anymore, even the special ones that they ask for on their birthdays. They always hide them in their closet soon after getting them, not wanting to be bothered anymore.

And now, you must beware, I think now other children have made that same wish. Perhaps they are of a weak heart, too? Because now I seem to be getting smaller. I fear that eventually we’ll all be as small as the children. And me, with my weak heart! Reader, were you told when you were younger that you would grow bigger? Or were you told that the world would get smaller? Perhaps a better question is this: were you ever taught how to see which is true?

The Doctor insists that there is only one way to see things. In school, she points out, the teacher tells you what she sees, and you must accept it. Unfortunately, the Doctor’s eyes are nothing like mine, as much as I would like them to be. While I can acknowledge the Doctor’s point of view for her favorite subjects like math and science, it doesn’t make much sense when looking at the world. My wishes are as important to me as my eyes. It is often difficult to distinguish one’s vision from the other.

The thing about wishes is that, like children, once we bring them into this world we must take care of them. Too often lately, people have been tossing out their wishes with their memories. While it is true that I have lost some memories, I do hold on tightly to my dreams. It troubles me that many people, just the opposite, can forget about their dreams so easily. Consider that if you lose your dreams, you can always look and find them again. But if you forget about them, you will have lost them forever.

I think the trouble comes for people who have forgotten how to enjoy their wishes. You never see adults playing with their toys anymore, even the special ones that they ask for on their birthdays. They always hide them in their closet soon after getting them, not wanting to be bothered anymore. Just today, for example, I showed the Doctor some lovely pictures I drew for her, just as she’d wished me to do. When she saw them, however, they dropped from her hand almost the instant her eyes fell on the page.

That’s the way people are today. While we are dreaming, it seems that once we have our wish everything will be fine and easy. But for some reason, it is much easier to want things than it is to love them once they are finally ours. I am reluctant to believe it, but I don’t think the Doctor liked my drawings very much at all. It was her wish for me to draw things the way I see them, but she was not happy once she received it. If I could wish one more time – I promise I won’t though – I would wish that the trouble of wanting and loving could be switched.

Reader, I hope that you don’t think less of me for my wish. Sometimes it’s hard to understand that happiness can take on a different shape everyday. I will continue to write, and to draw, as long as you still want to see. But please take care if someone (even I) offers you what he most loves in the hope that you will take it from him. You will know better than I that the burden of wanting and loving are mismatched.