The storybook version of my life

In the storybook version of my life I would be sipping a Caramel Macchiato in Starbucks. The Starbucks that overlooks that ferris wheel. That ferris wheel which always flills me up with momentary happiness for some completely unknown reason. I love that ferris wheel. I'd be in that Starbucks which isn't filled with happy memories of life as I formerly knew it. Memories which come loathed in the life as I know it now. But then again, that's another story.

It would be sunset. The sunset would be at that perfect angle, giving the world that perfect orangish/red tint that would make everything seem..perfect. It would be drizzling a bit too. Yes, it would definitely be drizzling in the story book version of my life. The air would have this.. magical.. feel. The kind of magical feel that I've only ever experienced going on those long walks with my dad in Leicester.

I miss Leicester. I miss my dad too.

And I'd be with that person. That smart, funny, wise person. Mature too. Slightly crazy? Yes, I think I'd like that person to be slightly crazy. We'd talk about everything. Friends, politics, life. And music. Oh yes, music is very important. That person would laugh at my jokes. That person would challenge my opinions. That person would be perfectly imperfect.

I like that person.


And then, reality happens. My room looks like I haven't cleaned it in awhile. Probably because I haven't cleaned it in awhile. My bag is lying on the bed slightly open, displaying my new tort book. I need to start reading that tort book. And I'm filled with an undeniable sense of nostalgia. Nostalgia is the worst feeling in the world, I think.

I liked the storybook version of my life better.