stories and charts.

dearimaginaryfriend:

geometricity:

walruskungfu:

I don’t like being asked what I want in life. What I want to do, where i want to go. Cos when people ask me, I stop and stutter and say nothing I really actually mean. Possibly because I haven’t actually decided where i want to be ten years from now.

I want big city lights and small town closeness.
I want a sky high loft, with the best technologies and modern design.
I want a musty cabin made out of wood and brick, with taxidermy and mono photos decorating the walls.
I want busy streets and people everywhere.
I want a secret quiet place to hide from humanity.
I want constant motion, a restless place that never stops moving.
I want complete and utter stillness, a place with no sound.
I want rickety fire escapes and a secure panic room.
I want screaming riffing hooligans who wear tight pants.
I want soft, handsome boy-men in peacoats and old fashioned head-wear.
I want something to do that’s just up the way, and whenever i’m bored i just take a short walk to get there.
I want finding things to do hard to come by, forcing me to find entertainment in myself.
I want a Victorian mansion with flowered wallpaper and incredibly high ceilings.
I want a tiny warm apartment, with my friends just across the hall, ready to emerge with a raw chicken on their heads and salute a shimmy.
I want a big family.
I don’t want kids.
I want there to always be someone who won’t mind if i want to hug the love out of them.
I want there to always be someone who won’t mind if i take my frustration about the day on them.

I want to be happy.
Happy happy happy that’s all i really need. I want to be doing things that i genuinely love doing, i want to be with people who i really do love, i want to be somewhere where i feel like i fit and know what i’m doing.

Is that too much to ask?

—

the good part is.. i think i’m starting to figure out at least the tiniest fraction of this.