(via silhouettesandshadows)

I believe I’m feeling comfortably numb. I don’t want shopping trips in town; I don’t want partying at clubs; I don’t want home as it is; I don’t want boring Mondays; I don’t want quiet students; I don’t want to just dine at nice restaurants. All these don’t excite me anymore, for I am comfortably numb.

I want to read a book in the lawn with sunshine from Spring; I want to roam about a city and capture it through my lens; I want to paint the lakes and the trees in autumn; I want to munch on a croissant and survive on hot chocolate; I want to dress like Audrey Hepburn and feel totally in place; I want to live by myself with no disturbances; I want to hold small cheese and wine and jazz parties; I want philosophical conversations and feel different after every such conversation; I want to cry and laugh as loud as I can and feel totally sane and proud about it. I just want to live again.