The Price We Pay for the Things We Want

What I want is simple.

I want to be art, create art, and consume art.

I want to practice all my hobbies in fulfillment knowing I am doing the things that I want. The things that bring me inherent pleasure and joy.

I want to listen to coffee table jazz in the background while reading a good book as I let my imaginations take me places I’ve never been, through the book.

I don’t want to imagine being at the beach. I want to already be there, coated in shea butter, basking in the sunshine, while being grounded in the warmth and texture of the sand.

Instead of thinking about the various ways french people enjoy baguettes, I want to be in France. I want to be in la boulangerie enjoying fresh baguettes and many french delicacies.

I want wisdom and knowledge but not the kind that comes with trauma. I want to learn just because.

I want to be well-versed, well-read, well-traveled, and well-fed.

I want all the finest things in life as it applies to me.

I also want to exist in my mediocrity because my pure existence is enough. I want the peace of mind of knowing that I am worthy simply by the virtue of being and not by doing.

But in order to get the things that I want, money is needed. We have created a world where labor is required to buy happiness. So I settle for labor I may not like, in hopes that someday I can afford all the things I want.

And maybe someday, I won’t have to settle anymore. Someday the work I do will consist of the things that I want. Not until then will I be living a fulfilled life.