dirt roads lead to clear paths

How you interpret the world is what will ultimately make me fall in love with you.  I care so deeply about creativity, intuition and connection that if those things aren't in your interpretation I honestly don't believe we should, or could ever, be lovers.  

I may not have all my ducks in a row or an internet banking app on my phone, not yet.  I may not have the tidiest room because I am a gypsy and have been uprooted recently for reasons and friendships bigger than myself.  I most certainly still want to backpack third world countries and sip a cocktail or three watching sunrises with no intention to shower that day. Unless the shower is a waterfall I have hiked to, whilst chatting about collective consciousness, emotional intelligence and lyrics of a song.  So although I lack a lot of down the line practicality, and one could confuse my child like optimism as naivety and foolishness, that does not bother me. If it bothers you, you're not the one for me.  I can very easily download the app, I can very easily clean my room and I can very easily shower three times a day if I needed to, but I don't need to.  My interpretation of the world is bigger than convenience, than set norms and outer shell obsessions.  I can do the mundane, I can do the budgets and I can do the responsible. But they are not my world and will most likely never be.  
Lover, do not walk in front of me, as I will not follow.
Lover, do not walk behind me, as I will not lead.
Lover, walk beside me, as We are in this world together. 

The details are vague but I was deadlocked in hot sticky, black molten tar.  It dripped thick from my limbs and the fumes burned raw with every breath.  I woke up suffocating and scared. 
Why?  because I feel stuck in something that isn't natural. That paves the road for a misinterpreted world. Appearing fluid at first, constructive and even necessary but tar turns rigid and unapproachable at the midday sun and appears as black ice under the moonlit blankets.  A road to nowhere good. Nowhere great and nowhere true. 
Fuck I want great.  I want extraordinary.  I want a dirt road and dirtier pairs of dancing feet to walk it with.   Should there be signal, I'll download the fucking banking app if I have to while we talk about how we care so deeply for interpretations of the world and that there are endless reasons as to why yours made me fall in love with you.  Falling not down and scraping hurtfully lodged tar off my knees no. Falling up and up to something more spiritual and almost other worldly.