She wants to succeed. She wants so desperately to have that reassurance that she’s achieved what was needed to be achieved. She wants to live up to the standards and fast pace of a constant moving city. She looks at those already on the pedestal of life, points and says, “I want to be as successful as him, her, and them. I want to see greener pastures, I am tired of struggle.” Her body grows rigid with each day of forced mental and physical labor.
She is lying. This is what she wants most in the world: A calm serene scene with a various abundance of winged species surrounding her. A metaphor of her newfound freedom, she wants it. She wants to sit on a white porch rocking on a wooden rocking chair that reminds her of her youth. She has never been one for the lavish things. No pearls, no gold, no silver can ever compare to the colors in the sky. She is fascinated by things man can’t create. She wants to lie, bare skinned, with a blanket spread across the grass and marvel at her life. Not because of what she may have achieved, not because of others’ perception of her, but because of her authenticity. She wants her body to flow without restriction and for someone to fall in love with her because of it.