For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to have my very own closet.
It's kind of like this.
I have this absurd idea that I will hang all my clothes in a bright white closet and I will sit in it with the doors open and I will write.
And everything will be gorgeous.
It's simple. Plain. Easy.
But.
I will never have that until I have my own house.
Just saying. Honestly. I won't.
And in the back of my head, I sometimes wonder if I'll ever have it. Am I too messy? Will I fill it with shoes? What if it's too small?
But then I think.
No.
It will be clean. And white. And mine.
And I will have a stack of magazines in the corner to rip up. And gluesticks in there. And it will be
brilliant.
And I will cover the shelves in it with little stories.
I WANT WOODEN HANGARS.
It's kind of like this.
I have this absurd idea that I will hang all my clothes in a bright white closet and I will sit in it with the doors open and I will write.
And everything will be gorgeous.
It's simple. Plain. Easy.
But.
I will never have that until I have my own house.
Just saying. Honestly. I won't.
And in the back of my head, I sometimes wonder if I'll ever have it. Am I too messy? Will I fill it with shoes? What if it's too small?
But then I think.
No.
It will be clean. And white. And mine.
And I will have a stack of magazines in the corner to rip up. And gluesticks in there. And it will be
brilliant.
And I will cover the shelves in it with little stories.
I WANT WOODEN HANGARS.
No comments:
Post a Comment