I want to live somewhere cold.
Somewhere that requires big puffy coats and ugly sweaters. I want to ride my bike to the small drug store to buy an energy drink or a pack of smokes. The house I would live in would be filled with ugly furniture and have horrible windows that let the cold wisp in through the cracks. I would keep a kettle on the stove for my tea addiction.
And I would write.
The tea would get cold, sitting in my grey mug while I scribble through notebook after notebook.
I don't want the summer, I don't want a city full of people. The excitement would choke me.
I want the cold.
I want there to be people I've known for years. People I hate. People I love. People with bad reputations, good reputations or weird ones. I would know my neighbors. I want to know my neighbors just so I can fucking avoid them. Avoid the awkward unnecessary small talk. But I would know who they are, I'd know their names. We probably even went to college together.
Down the street is the abandoned house. Everyone says it's haunted, but it's really just beyond repair. There are broken beer bottles inside and graffiti covers the dark walls. The house looks colder than the weather, but it's harmless.
Maybe sometimes I would walk to the house in the middle of the day. Bring my camera to try to capture some sort of life in the empty house. I'd wear my bright blue windbreaker. Which doesn't make any sense at all. Windbreakers don't break the wind. At all. You can still feel the chill wrap around your bones.
I want winter gloves, coffee, and a VHS player.
That is what I want.