I want.

I want to read all of the books I am told about that sound intriguing and the ones I discover alone in out of the way bookstores. I want to be able to attend all of those pub nights, movie nights, name-that-tune-nights, karaoke nights. I want to sit in cute cafes sipping cups of coffee conversing with strangers about the deeper side of mundane things. I want to be swept away in a dark jazz club by the man I adore. I want to attend poetry slams, author readings, writers workshops. I want to practice yoga, to run, to play. I want to leisurely dine on delectable dinners by candle light. I want to sip wine in front of a warm fireplace while the snow envelopes the world in a cold hug. I want a cruiser bicycle with a basket to carry home my finds from the farmers market. I want to paint, colour, create. I want to hold hands while walking the dog through the park in the late summer evenings. I want to travel. I want adventures. I want to swim in the ocean and allow the waves to carry me. I want to relax in a hammock, swaying to a light warm breeze. I want to meet strangers on a train in another country that become lifelong friends. I want fresh flowers in my house at all times. I want a garden to cultivate a bounty of vegetables. I want to get lost in quaint towns on road trips. I want to laugh till I cry. I want kisses in the rain. I want to climb mountains with my lover, looking out at the world from high peaks. I want to give back to the world more than it has given me. I want to stay up late. I want to wake up early. I want to feel alive always.