you know i'm no good

I once knew a girl who, upon the hearing the news that i was taking up a desk job, told me I was selling out, settling down, giving up, because people like me shouldn't be trapped in mundane work clothes and nine to five slabs of time stolen from a would be wondrous day and instead sold to a menial cause that was undeserving of my attention which would otherwise be so passionately dedicated to something else, some other cause, like myself, like the slow but steady unravelment of the tightly bound moral code that years of private schooling and heavy societal pressures had built up within me and the unleashing of something deeper and primal that drove me away from my home and the ones I loved and into something terrifyingly exhilarating and self destructive and yet also beautiful and perhaps the only thing worth doing which is moving on, wandering, some might call it abandoning, perhaps, abandoning responsibilities and expectations and crushing any hopes or dreams for normality or mediocrity that certain people may have wanted, needed, me to adhere to because, she said, people like me scare others, because people like me are born to do things differently and perhaps differently means for the wrong reasons or perhaps it means hurting others or leaving people that shouldn't be left or giving up instead of sticking around or perhaps it means finding my own way without help or directions and nearly drowning in the process but rising up singing in the end because people like me can endure these things that others perhaps cant, and that's not a strength of character it's more a biological defect, because surviving the worst doesn't always lead you to the best, in fact, sometimes all it serves to do is build a defence mechanism that involves a packed suitcase and a goodbye letter and, she said, people like me, and people like her, have a knack of slipping through the fingers of others like grains of sand because we can't be kept or caged or owned, because we only own ourselves and if ourselves are all we own we'll always have nothing to lose, and in the end perhaps all we desperately want is something - to lose, i mean, but perhaps we'll never have it, at least nothing substantial, only each other, she said, and even then, nothing is forever.