I’ve never known what I wanted out of life, in fact the question never really made sense to me. Life isn’t something I chose to get into for some sort of goal, or purpose, it was thrust upon me unasked-for before I knew anything about anything. Literally.
Look, I know that there is a universe outside of my personal perception, vast beyond proper imagining, next to which I am infinitely small. But in a very real way, at least from my point of view, my life is literally everything. You might as well ask what I want out of the whole universe.
To consider the grand scale of existence, the countless wonders it contains, and ask only what someone wants out of it seems petty, narrow minded and missing the point. It puts me to mind of a person having inherited a vast collection of beautiful works of art and journals containing first-hand accounts of major historical events and their complete family tree for the last thousand years, and only wanting to know “How much can I sell it for?”
I suppose that provides a simple, but woefully incomplete, answer for what I want more of in my life: knowledge and beauty. Not necessarily in that order, and mingled together as much as possible.