Do you know what I really want to do? I do not want a miracle, I do not want endless and pure love, I do not want people to call me up or message me, I do not want people to ask me out, I do not want anyone to tell me that they care, I do not want answers, nor do I want the slow numbness that alcohol provides, last but not the least I do not even want a warm embrace, be it from just one or a crowd and I certainly do not want a patient ear, for I have nothing to tell you, you or even you.
All I want is a high point overlooking the city, the cold breeze for company and a mug of hot coffee to keep me warm and to then look blankly with moist eyes at the city lights in the distance. Only trouble being, in this land of endless plains there are no heights as far as the eye can see and in this thick fog if you can see your hand you can call yourself lucky. As usual all I can ever wish for is only something I can never get. Consistency can be such a bitch.