I have a bad habit.
It's getting worse. I try to run and fly and hope to fall down some time.
I want to be baked. To be high, drunk and to not be judged.
To do stupid, silly and idiotic things and be loved and adored for it.
To speak my heart out, and be liked for what I contain beneath my skin and bones.
To brainstorm on unrelatable topics and waste some time watching the nights smoke pipe and the stars grow old.
To dance in the storms and drive in the rain.
I try to do mediocre things in this busy, busy world.
And then they ask me, why don't I ever try to aim high?
I smile, and blame it on my bad habit.
