Sometimes,
I wish to never speak again, let all the wasted conversations dissolve into dissipated air.
I wish to gain enough distance between me and my past that I can only view it with a dispassionate calm.
I wish to spend my Sundays reading the New Yorker.
I wish not to feel so disturbed while reading Fitzgerald's biography.
I wish I could remember the things about you that made me feel so happy and to not forget the things about you that made me feel so sad.
I wish that my mind was lucid and precise, and that thinking was as easy as breathing.
I wish I could get enough sleep.
I wish I could remember all the words I really like and I wish I could use those words in perfectly formed sentences.
~instead of spilling words...
