Yearning

I want to feel something.

I want to be someone.

I want to be happy. I want to chase my dreams and live in them. I want to do it for the rest of my life. I don't want to be exhausted from work, I want exhaustingly blissful from doing what I love the most. I want to turn these dreams into reality.

I want to write. I want to have something published. I want it to be relevant, or better yet, a best-seller. I want to go back in time and take a chance on journalism or creative writing. I want to be a writer for the longest time. I want to be a writer.

I want to be melancholic. I want to feel sad from being rejected. I want to be frustrated so as to be motivated. I want to feel like I'm losing hope. I want to try out talking to God more fervently. I want to be stronger.

I want to be a genius. I want to be a diplomat. I want to be an ambassador. I want to travel the world while making a stand. I want to be the hero in the world of diplomacy. I want to be less indolent now and start involving myself. I want to belong.

I want to build a home. I want to be a wife, a mom. I want to fulfill him, I want him to be happy. I want to make love. I want to bear a child out of  love. I want us to be the best parents. I want them to be the best children, too. I want him to build a family with me.

I want to grow old with him. I want us to die together so we will never be grievous for missing each  other. I want to hold his wrinkled hand and kiss his wrinkled forehead. I want to spend my whole life with him.

I want things to be the way I want them to be.

If not, then, I just want to be happy by writing the greatest things about him. He's what I want and that all it takes.