Wishing for Multiple Lives in One Life

I feel as if I have always, and by that I mean for as long as I can remember, wanted to be someone different. I wanted to be a talented singer, or an artist, or a really, really kickass dancer. I have wanted to be beautiful, or wake up with flat abs. I have wanted to wake up to clear, beautiful skin, to wake up in a whole different country. I have a beautiful life, extremely loving parents, wonderful friends, and my days are filled with memories that I wish I could stick onto scrapbook pages for posterity's sake. And even still, sometimes I feel trapped. I always seem to want to be in a place different from where I am.

What do I want really? I want to wake up in a nice airy apartment, full of plants and books—and as I step out into the balcony I see the Eiffel Tower, I calmly sip my tea and crunch on my toast, allowing the day to start on its own time instead of rushing through it. I want to own a secondhand bookstore in a small town in Holland, living in a cute little apartment, biking to work everyday, and writing my own books and having them published in a world where people still read. I want to be an extremely successful (think multimillionaire) entrepreneur. I want to drive my baby blue Cadillac down the unwinding roads of California. I want to be a world-famous actor, and I want to be the documentary filmmaker who hitchhikes on trucks through the back roads of Assam to capture the state in its rawest form.

I want to find love, a love story that is made of all my dreams all these years. And yet, I don't want to go looking for love, I want it to come find me. I wish I could have an outlet for my most random thoughts and someone to share it with. But then again, if ever there is a person who seems willing to listen, I shut up. I want to be perceived as jovial and friendly, but I also want to be a mystery no one can unravel. I am a paradox in more ways than one—and in more ways than I can list.

I wish for the lights and the noise of a big city, I to be invisible in its crowd. I also wish to take the narrow path on side of the interstate that leads to that invisible town no one ever talks about. I want fame and anonymity, somedays all I want to be is rich, rich, rich and some days I wonder what it would be like to become a monk and renounce all worldly ties.

I want to become the life of every party I walk into, bringing the light with me wherever I go, but I also want to be the wallflower who goes unnoticed so I can just observe the people without worrying about them catching me doing so.

I want to achieve the world and conquer a few galaxies: A hard-working enigma that is not to be messed with, but I also want to spend entire days just sitting and doing absolutely nothing but reading, laying on the grass under the late spring sun as I watch little ducks swimming in their zen, or cozy in my little apartment on a cold winter day, listening to my favorite music on repeat.

It seems like I want a lot, each life so different from the other, and yet, perfectly sketched out to the smallest detail in my mind. I often say that I suffer from an overactive and overheated imagination. This, when doubled with a heart of a poet can often be one of the most dangerous things to be, will leave you with a constant heartache and a longing to be in a place you currently do not reside—it's a moving target and probably will not come to a rest until you yourself reach your final resting place. Maybe this is a constant battle to find peace in your current surroundings and within yourself, maybe this is the start of lifelong madness, or maybe, this can be the fuel to creativity that otherwise would have no fire.

Maybe I am just searching for something that exists within me. Maybe it doesn't exist at all... I don't know what I want, but I do know that I want it all.