f r e e words

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i've always had this dream, nothing great or big, but a dream nonetheless.
i've wanted to live in my own apartment. one that i've crafted out on my own, each corner, right from the sheets on my bed to the paint splattered on the walls. i've wanted to have this little job, preferably something i love and take pride in doing. and i wanted to go every morning knowing that something would await me when i return. something not someone. something being possible a cup of coffee that i prepare and sip while reading an old book, from my collection of many. i'd sit by the window, sipping coffee, soft music, and reading, drowning myself in the story, the crinkling of the pages, away from the world, but in my own little world. and i'd fall asleep, peacefully while reading, surrounded by the love of books and coffee and music, some of the things that have never stopped reciprocating my love.