I want to write.
I want to be a housewife. I crave the mundane tasks of keeping house, gardening, wrangling a small child and two dogs.
I want to create. I want to use my imagination and make things with the tools I have in my possession, accumulated over the last decade or so.
I want to work. I like having a job, seeing people other than just my family all day. I want my job to be only part time.
I want to do what I love, which takes me back to wanting to write. I want to write while I am at work but that's not really a feasible idea; perhaps I could write on my breaks.
I want to live.
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