I want a lot of things. I want to read. I want to write. I wanna call up a homie, spark a bowl, sit back & talk about life. I want to fast forward time, and I want it to rewind. I don’t want to search, but there’s things I need to find. I want to quit trying. I want to be content with where I’m going, where I’m at without judgement or strife. I want to be alone. Why won’t somebody hit my line? I want him to text me first. I want a commitment. I want to be promiscuous, our relationship inconspicuous. I wanna listen to the rain. I need some sunshine. I want to travel but… where should I reside? I want to save money. There’s so many things I need to buy! I don’t want to know the truth. I find comfort in believing lies. I want to be happy. My best work is the fruit of depression. I want to be a teacher. Too bad I’m busy learning a lesson. I want to be me. I want to be free. I really want a cookie, but I’d rather eat the dough. You know what I want more than anything at all? I want everyone to know my name while I remain unknown.



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