If I were brave enough, I’d become a gypsy. I’d run away from everything that ties me down and live carefree. I’d stop being bound to invisible rules that suffocate me. I’d be a vagabond moving with the wind, living off of the land, sea, and ecstasy. If I were brave enough, I’d damn the notion of home, the groundless and grounded sentiment that haunts my daylight dreams. I’d throw away money, passports, “identity”, I’d burn the manual of love and define it as my understanding changed its meaning. If I was brave enough, I’d give into the magic and mysticism of the unknown, I’d believe in unreality. I’d be slave only to my untamed spirit, and I wouldn’t let anything get a hold of me. If I was brave enough, time wouldn’t mean anything, I’d never strive for ‘maturity’, I’d learn not to hurt, I’d be able to laugh at everything, I would over indulge and never submit to worrying. If I was brave enough, I wouldn’t hold anyone accountable for anything, and I’d gracefully bow away from your heart being my responsibility. If I were brave enough, I’d stop hiding behind words and cut myself with honesty, I’d admit it’s raining to the clouds, I’d stop pretending. If I were brave enough, all of this wouldn’t be wishful thinking.