We all have our own little instruments of apostasy; deffiance. Illusioned school days; fake sleepovers; sneaking out; sneaking in. To each his own but the back bone is the same. Our negation to authority, to reality. There's always that chance that this dangerous tight-rope walk could burn us.That allusion to destruction that keeps us tentative. The higher you fly the harder you fall. I learnt from my indescretion, it didn't result in contrition, but prudence. It's not in our nature to conform indefinitely.
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