I Don’t Want Much


 

The leap into the unknown

I don’t want much:

I want to be happy.
I want to live forever.
I want to face no consequences. Ever.
That’s not much, is it?

I want to never live through another hot, humid day. Or a cold one.
I want it to rain when I want,
And be sunny and mild the rest of the time.
I want to chase Spring around the planet, skip
August, January, February and half of March.

I want a 5-series Beamer. Midnight blue. Just for Tuesdays.
The other days I’d like a Ferrari to drive down to my yacht.
Where I’d make love until dinner.
And then after.

I want to be 35 again, knowing what I know now.
(Not my 20s again. God, no. Everyone’s an idiot in their 20s.
No offense intended. But it’s true.)

I want to stop realizing that each day might be my last.
That one’s new. That’s the one that’s true. That’s the one I hate.

The other things are lies I tell myself.

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7 Replies to “I Don’t Want Much”

  1. That last line was perfection. The two before it felt like the recipe of processing I use. It’s a way to handle heavier issues as I distract myself with a circus of other possibilities that are non-fictitional, fun, or plain fantasy. The distractions are light entertainment that have benefits of their own too. This was an interesting approach to a serious thought.

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    1. I like the distractions too much, too. But after a while I noticed that spending my energy wanting stuff, or trying to distract myself, hadn’t helped with real issues. They were illusions, and so living among them meant my ‘solutions’ were illusions, too. That doesn’t mean my instincts were all wrong, just my methods.

      I’m thinking now of the old joke about the drunk who’s looking for his car keys under the streetlight, even though he lost them somewhere else, ‘because the light’s better here.’

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