If the palms fit, why deny it?  Even the most twisted of paths lead somewhere.  I used to fly but my wings were clipped, I'd like to remember how before it's too late.  So now I'm thinking in incomplete sentences and mixing my tenses, conjugating my verbs in the past because that's where my body lives.  The rest of me keeps marching on, but I'm stuck there - being pulled by some unnamed force that is determined to create this void within me.  Not even the prettiest of songs or the most beautiful of sunsets could make me cry right now, the most terrible story of war or the deadliest natural disaster, because I'm here.  And when I'm here, there's nothing else to be had.  I need a change of scenery as soon as humanly possible.  Walking with one foot in front of the other is getting so old.  Bring me some adventure.  Allow these wings to do what they're best at, and you can come along if you'd like.