Enough

The truth is... the truth is not the same as a fact. Truth, I have discovered, is subjective. I can say that it's a good day and it be true to me but not to someone else, and the same goes for feelings and emotions. I'm going with the flow of this thought now, so forgive me, ghost reader, for the vague ambiguity and the brevity of it all. Clarity is always oh so fleeting.

What is true, to me? What do I want?

Less time in my head, more time acting

Longer days with a brighter sun

Create and see creation

More savouring and less chugging

I want colour

Less clothes. No, different clothes. Clothes that make me want to stand up taller

I want a chess board and a card night

I want to learn to read braille and speak sign language

I want to save money and be reserved about it

And then I want to spend it all in adventure

I want to meet people with unconventional views on sex

I want to mingle with strangers who don't speak my language

I never want to order 'the usual'

I want to give up smoking

I want to cheer people up and on

I want to remember you and be remembered in return

Most of all I want to believe that this list will really make me happy. And when I have made myself believe... I want them all to happen, and for that to be enough.