Part Of Love Is Letting A Person

Once The Storm Comes Out, The Landscape Changes. What You Had Before Is Altered In Some Way. And You Have A Choice: Build Something New And Better From What Is Left Or Abandon It.

It Felt Good To Be Surrounded By Books, By All This Solid Knowledge, By These Objects That Could Be Ripped Page By Page But Couldn't Be Torn If The Pages All Held Together.

I Always Think Of Each Night As A Song. Or Each Moment As A Song. But Now I'm Seeing We Don't Live In A Single Song. We Move From Song To Song, From Lyric To Lyric, From Chord To Chord. There Is No Ending Here. It's An Infinite Playlist.

It's As If When You Love Someone, They Become Your Reason. And Maybe I've Gotten It Backward, Maybe It's Just Because I Need A Reason That I Find Myself Falling In Love With Her. But I Don't Think That's It. I Think I Would Have Continued Along, Oblivious, If I Hadn't Happened To Meet Her.

This Is Not Something Insignificant. This Is Real. This Is Happening, And This Is Ours.