What I Want Most

I want to be a better person.

I want to be a fighter- like the trees that bloom green every spring regardless of how many times fall punches off their leaves.

I want to keep growing, preferably not in width.

I want to be sturdy in my purpose.

I want to be fearless.

Fearless like the red lights- the ones that continually force people to break from the rush of the world knowing that everyone wants them to change.

I will not change for anyone.

I want to know peace.

I want to rekindle my youth; and I want to lay under the puffy clouds too- the ones that shape themselves daily in to the dinosaurs and airplanes I once knew. I want to notice their pictures.

I want to notice everything.

I want to read more and not just about celebrity gossip or sport scores.

I want to discover.

I want to believe that one roadside cross will save one hundred lives- because believer or not, that cross symbolizes life.

I want to believe more than sometimes.

I want crying to be okay.

I want to clap my hands for the shower singers- the ones that belt out their soul to ten thousand fans that for some reason closely resemble soap suds.

I want a standing ovation for curing hunger deprivation… or for reading a poem.

I want to know if there is a God.

I want those who can’t find him to keep searching; those who have found him to keep faith in his presence; and those who have no intentions of looking for him to keep exercising their free will.

I want Mel Gibson to shut the fuck up.

I wish I didn’t curse so much.

I wish I would stop dreaming and start doing; stop believing and start pursuing.

But I am a dreamer- I want to dream.

I want a heart that knows no limits and has no boundaries; I want a heart that can suck up worries and pump out passions.

I want to thank the body for being the only machine that doesn’t come with directions.

I want to learn how to read a map.

I want to know where I’m going, but when I do sail off into the unknown at one-hundred and twenty, I want to go to the rhythm of sweet memories.

I want to always have happiness.

I wish everyone was happy.

I want to give my sympathy to the alphabet because I butchered L,M,N,O,P until fourth grade.

I want to let down my guard and find time for mourning.

I want to wake up in the morning… just to watch the sunrise.

I want to apologize to the street signs -to the Trail of Tears Drive and Painters Lane to all the roads who welcome my story but I in return do not care to hear yours.

I want to have compassion for things that don’t concern me.

I want to put away the keyboard and pick up a pencil.

I want to write a letter.

I want to bring back all things time has outdated- I miss your sincerity.

I want to seek true serenity -I’m just not sure where to look.

I want to be elated- excited just to breathe.

I want to sing- with that same guitar that sacrificed its body in an attempt to string together a piece of someone’s life; I think you could change my life.

I want to make a difference.

I want to be hopeful, but not the hopeless romantic that hopes for red roses and white picket fences.

I want to be original.

I need to call home more.

I want to be patient, like the light bulbs in the attics that never get used, but calmly awaits for the unveiling of the forgotten memories and history it hides with the ceiling.

I wish I wasn’t so obnoxious.

I want to keep secrets like the curtains that can shut out the world from the person.

I want to be someone that someone wants to be.

I want to give advice worth hearing and praise worth appreciating.

But what I want most, ironically… is to be genuinely content in not wanting at all.