After years of sullen guilt and a dissolution of ambition, I feel almost proud of my ability to "want" now. I want the sand stuck between my toes and salt dried in my hair. I want the pine needles between my fingers and the caterpillars on my finger. I want a kindness the world used to treat me with when I was much, much younger.

I want a love that impassions me relentlessly. I want a familiar face against mine, gentle and quiet. I want to recognize the world around me and to feel the warmth that embraces me throughout the cold, winter nights. To feel and to really feel it in such a manner that it is branded in my soul. And I have not felt this greed in so, so long. I want so much, and I want the initiative to take it. So I will.

I do not quite understand why it has taken me so long to recognize and to feel this. I feel greedy, entirely ravenous, and it is a satisfying feeling. I take, and I take, and it leaves me wanting it, thrillingly and much more.

I find it within me to say I want a love, and I want to accept it in its entirety. And I am okay with this want.