This is what I live for:
Waking up to crisp morning air, speckled with the smell of rain.
The feeling of a warm sweater straight from the dryer.
A shower and a fresh bar of soap.
the moon and her halo of stars.
The color green.
Belly laughter.
A text from a friend.
Driving fast.
Homemade bread.
Waking up smiling.
Walking on the coast.
My little sister as she runs up to me, hugs me tight and refuses to let go.
Playing card games late at night during the holidays.

Stop. Don't speak. Words cheapen the meaning of this moment. The air's gentle breeze that pushes life from one reality to the next lays softly on my skin. Don't rob me of this moment of comfort, of solitude, of warmth by asking for a deeper meaning.
Nothing is me, but me.
Reality is found in perception's grasp.
It is as it is. It is in who I am.
Stop. Don't ask "why".

How oft do I look at another and say, "Oh, that I were you!"? I see the life, I see their fancy and I want it for my own. Their sparkles and glitz, their loved ones around.
"I would trade you. Yours for mine." I say.
But what is theirs to mine? Yes, the woman walking past is beautiful. But she kind? Yes. The family walking past seems happy...but what happens behind those closed doors? Yes. I...maybe they would trade me, too? Maybe in the changing and the rearranging of our identities we would discover our own discomfort of others, and our own love of self.
Would I change me? Do I wish that I were someone else?