she

she wishes to be swept off her feet. by a charming someone. flowers, candles, champagne and all. she secretly wishes were singing again.
she wants to marry michael buble. who by the way, has the most velvet-ty yummylicious smooth voice.
she knows that when he sings, he sings to her.
she will do anything to be on a beach. anytime of the year.
she wishes she could travel to one new city every month.
she knows that a lot of things that need to be done, are just piling on her to-be-done-in-life list.
she wishes she could go out for drinks, drink a mojito and chill, because she's being driven home. she is angry beneath the surface.
she has made some friends, none of whom seem to fit just right.
she is a specimen of habit. an old shoe is just fine. fewer, old friends will do just fine, thank you very much.
she gives and gives and gives and somewhere that damned expectation creeps in.
she wants to have one whole night of sleep. EIGHT full hours of it.
she wants a room with a make over.
she recognises when people mean what they say.
she smiles when shes confused. she smiles when shes sad. she smiles when she wants and cannot have.

i know this she.