Is it wrong of me to want something that’s mine for the sole purpose being it makes me happy?

I’ve been taught throughout my life that to desire is wrong. It’s led me to separate a lot of my dreams from desire, focusing and energizing myself on other people and their hopes and dreams. As well as practicality in opposition from passion. Is it wrong to want something for myself purely because it makes me happy?

When I was little I was in a lot of plays and musicals. My parents thought I would grow up to be an actress. I was rather dramatic. Not to mention, I had a knack for playing other people, I guess. I'm good at accents and attitudes, always throwing myself completely into my roles. I almost always got the lead in plays because my personality seemed that it was so large it could become many different people, yet still be entirely me. I guess that was unique.

My grandma and grandpa always remind me of red balloons. Floating eternally in the sky. Wee lil mads used to look at the sky often—as she does now, making her incredibly clumsy—and she’d always see a red balloon, floating on, soaring higher. She’d close her little green eyes, squeeze them real tight, the tight that hurts your face and makes you feel like your eyeballs might just retract into your skull—thin skin protection—and wishes would sneak out her little pink lips. So many wishes. So many hopes. Dream on, little one.