Wishes.

Sometimes I wish I could just go by myself to a pretty, highly populated, park with a notebook and pen and just write stories about all the people I see. . .

Sometimes I wish I had a comforatable spot I could go to be completely alone, where no one could reach me. And where no one would get mad that they couldn't reach me.

Sometimes I wish God was physically in front of me so I could cry on His shoulder and curl up in His lap for real, tangibly.

Sometimes I wish I could fly.

Sometimes I wish I was invisible.

Sometimes I wish no one expected or demanded anything of me.

Sometimes I wish people actually liked me.

Sometimes I just wish I had a best friend. . . .



. . .



sometimes I wish you would come back for me.