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He was primarily an idealist.

Except his notions of idealism were different. He was pragmatic even about his real world idealisms. The rest he enjoyed as fantasy. He wasn't asking for uninterrupted bliss. That was just too monotonous. He had always maintained that people should feel free to do things that were different atleast once in a while.

Things they had dreamt of and would probably enjoy doing. Like jumping out a window. No, that's probably just being naive.

Sometimes he just wanted to move on. Become someone else. Be somewhere else. Do something else. Not that he was running away. He didn't want to be a coward. All people have at some point of time dreamt of possessing some super-power. Or atlleast a magic lamp. If you havn't you need to get an adrenaline check-up. You are probably too over-dosed with internal fear to let yourself imagine.

He wasn't a very good critic. He thought it was being too harsh. Besides he could never trust his taste. They used to call him benevolent. He thought it very sappy. Fuck them. He wanted to be a Corleone.

But the truth was he liked it. He liked being the nice guy. It gave him comfort. It was leverage for doing the outrageous. For he didn't want to be a rebel. He was no renegade. One doesn't defeat a system. One changes it to benefit those he wants it to. The beauty of it was to rise to such heights that your word counted. Was it hypocrisy he wondered. He was playing around. Was he ready for its consequences. For what goes around does come around.

And then he would come to his senses. What did he get out of so much worrying. There wasn't the time. Maybe he should just go back to filling a glass, putting on a record and dreaming good thoughts. Let what come may.

Don't walk in front of me, I may not follow. Don't walk behind me, I may not lead. Walk beside me... - Albert Camus