I Want.

Sunshine days with bits of black storm. Lots of laughs. There have to be lots of laughs. And the only sort of tears that'll be acceptable are the ones that come from laughing too hard.
There have to be trees. Thousands of trees. So when you look out the window- windows which never have bars holding you in- you see miles and miles of rolling green. Not just green though. Crimson gold leaves that make a crunchy carpet on the pavements.

Not too many people either. Some that I love, some that I like and some that are just entertaining. Maybe some that I don't like, to break the monotony.

Not constant music either, because that would be annoying. Some music. Bach. Rachmaninov. Dylan. The Byrds. Cat Stevens. Some Coldplay. And I hate to admit it, but Billy Joel because a world without Uptown Girl and Piano Man would be wrong. I want silence too. The silver kind. Soft and whispery and cold metallic silence. But not all the time. People talking. But only the ones with nice or interesting voices. Rhea's pigeon voice would be welcome. My psychology teacher's duck voice would not.

Mountains. There have to be mountains. And not the small, muddy ones either. Tall and majestic and purple because any other sort of mountain isn't a mountain, it's a failure. And they have to be rocky and they have to have streams. Cold silver streams with clear white waterfalls. Lots of birds- colourful ones. But they will stay far away from all humans and not swoop down to peck our eyeballs out.

But more than anything else, there have to be seas. Seas that you swim in and seas that you look at. Seas that you taste and feel. Blue. Green. Grey. In the morning, I want the sun to shine fiercely over them and in the evening, I want to watch the sun set in pink and gold and crimson streaks and the moon take its place among the stars.

I meant, when I started writing, to write about what I wanted out of life. Goals and hurdles and glittering trophies at the end of twisting, uneven paths.

But maybe this is what I want.