seventeen years.

I want to be 21 for forever.

I want to have an apartment in the heart of Toronto with hardwood floors and no curtains.

I want to hear my boston terrier snore softly beside me when we sleep on the futon on the floor.

I want to spend my days sitting in a patio with a hangover and a friend while smoking cigarettes.

I want to spend my nights going to night clubs and having a bottomless glass of rum and cranberry.

I want to have white walls covered in polaroids and posters.

I want to sit on my balcony and look at the city lights.

I want to have this kickass job that pays more for minimal work.

I want to sit on my living room floor watching movies and eating sushi, and spaghetti when the money is tight.

I want to have a closet full of amazing vintage clothes.

I want to be able to wear high heels 24/7 without ever feeling discomfort.

I want to make this all happen, but it never will.