Sometimes your compass breaks

And your true north fades.

And your forest turns dark you get caught in a thunderstorm and you’re lost and you collapse and betray yourself and blame yourself and hold your heart to the fire, knowing no other thing to do.

And then the sun rises.

And the rain slows to a drizzle. 

And you realize you've been here before. 

And you stand up and just start going.

And you’re not sure to where, or in which direction, but you know you have to go.

this is what weekends feel like with you

Thoughts to myself on: Taking the Subway

Where are we going?

Is this jail?

Wait we have to pay for this?

Those are nice mosaics.

It's hot down here.

What if I fall in? Would I have enough time to climb back out?

Oh look it's coming! That was fast.

This is so convenient! No waiting! I love New York.

HURRY GET ON MOVE IT PEOPLE THIS IS N-Y-C THERE IS NO TIME!

Phew, made it.

I don't want to touch this.

Ok I'll just use the back of my wri-

OH SHIT HANG ON.

I'm hot.

Looking around, I feel good about what I'm wearing.

He's wearing shorts? Please. Must be new.

Ugh she still has her sunglasses on I should have thought of that.

I need to wash my hands.

Wait what stop is this?

How do you know which one's your stop?

Great I'm probably in New Jersey.

I'll just get off at one that sounds familiar.

Houston, nice. Like Texas. Sounds promising.

Is he sleeping? How?

SE corner of.. hm no..

NE corner of.. What?

None of the above!

WHERE AM I

Ok just choose a stairway and go.

SUNLIGHT.

THE GREAT BEYOND.

Wait ok where am I

When you laugh, everything goes from hard to the easiest thing in the world

late night tracks

❝ Is it the little things that make me love you? Yeah, sure, it’s the little things… if by little you mean the monumental details that hold the weight of the world in the core of my soul–the major moments when I don’t expect anything significant and you do something with such care and ease that I stare at your chest knowing I’ve never seen your heart any clearer. It’s the times you’ve kissed my shoulder when no one was watching, the way you look at me when I’m hurting, and how you still answer my endless questions with patience and tact. It’s how you so often respond the exact opposite from how I expect you to, and the way you listen and talk with such transparency and grace–yeah, I love you because of those “little” moments that plant themselves deeply and daily in our story. These “little” things that sprout promising implications, screaming through the silence of my doubts–those “little” things you do–all rippling through my stillness, shattering my hesitations, and holding up my broken weary head with bold handsome hands–sure, it’s the little things that make me love you, but they’re not little at all when I’m on the front lines watching your heart unfold. These little things are massive, because if they were little at all, I wouldn’t have the honor of knowing you so thoroughly. It takes love to know when something little is actually big, you know? So, it’s the big things that make me love you, really. Don’t you see all you are to me? You are proof that life is beautiful because the evidence is constantly blooming from your soul, pouring from your mouth, gripping in your fingers, blinking in your eyes. You make our little moments rumble with color–making little moments not little at all. ❞