In a perfect world, I would actually fit in my own skin.

In a perfect world, home would follow me wherever I went.

In a perfect world, comfort would be a given reality, not an abstract concept.

In a perfect world, I could have ice cream for dinner and pizza for breakfast with little consequence.

In a perfect world, my little corner of the world would be safe, warm, and perpetually bathed in a soft light.

In a perfect world, I would not only be loved, I would feel loved.

In a perfect world, the moments of sadness would correspond to sad things that happen.

In a perfect world, I would feel like a priority. To someone, to anyone.

In a perfect world, sleep would be plentiful, worries would be few and far between.

In a perfect world, I would not just realize my good fortune, I would live it.

In a perfect world, I would never be in a hurry.

In a perfect world, every little thing would not be of life-or-death importance.

In a perfect world, I would be more focused on the well-being of others than of myself.

In a perfect world, I would have myself and that would be enough.

In a perfect world, I would have someone to hold my hand when I am eighty.

In a perfect world, I would not feel the need to write lists like this.

In a perfect world, I would be a better person.

In a perfect world, I would not be perfect and that would be okay.

In this world, I need to find a way to peacefully co-exist with me.

Enough complaining.

Tomorrow the funny-ha-ha's return.