My very impulsive wants.

I want to love my job.

I want a job I love.

I want to travel. Back-to-back. Melbourne to Hong Kong. Hong Kong to London. London to Dublin. With nary a care.

I want to meet Colin Firth and tell him how dashing he is.

I want the Cady from Oliver Peoples.

I want to shoot people in between the eyes and whoop for joy.

I want coffee. Stat. Or brain stimulants. The ones that go straight to the head. A bullet might do the trick.

I want to attend a music festival with all the band fare.

This ain’t going anywhere.

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