If a magic genie came to the world and offered one wish, just one, I think the room would become still.
Because one wish asks a person to stop pretending.
Not what do you want people to see?
Not what sounds noble?
Not what makes you look grateful, strong, or wise?
But what do you need?
Would we ask for money, because hunger has been sitting at the table too long?
Would we ask for time, because love left before we were ready?
Would we ask for healing, because the body remembers what the mouth has learned not to say?
Or would we ask for peace, because we are tired of being brave in rooms where no one notices the cost?
I wish every human being feel safe enough to tell the truth about what they need.
And the world becomes gentle enough to listen.
Because behind every wish is a wound.
Behind every wound is a story.
And behind every story is someone still hoping life will answer softly.
One wish is not much.
But if it had to be only one, let it be the kind that begins with truth.
And ends with mercy.
