Not many people experience the opportunity to step back into their past. 

Even with unfortunate circumstances leading you to this destination, it allows a person to step into an alternate universe for a moment;

the future of your past 2 years after it has moved on without you.

It is an interesting experience. Time almost stands still as you drift around the room, recognizing the faces that filled your everyday and studying those who are new.

Tears and laughs over memories and situational awkwardness decorate a room celebrating the life of someone who was special to so many. You are grabbed and held and lifted and squeezed like you were the prodigal son. You are the reason for more tears but at least these are happy ones. 

This place, with fresh coats of paint, new ceilings and a spare key in the vintage coke machine will always feel like home to you. Those who grabbed you, placing kisses on your cheek, thank you for being there, fill your heart until it is about to explode. You are grateful to experience the positive impact you made to these people who have made such an impact on you. Forever changed, forever loved. 

Even though you can’t take the past with you because it will distract from your present leading you towards your future. You can acknowledge all the past has done for you, appreciate all the gifts it has presented to you, love it for all it has been to you and wish it the very best as it continues on, without you.



"That’s how you know you love someone, I guess, when you can’t experience anything without wishing the other person were there to see it, too."

- Kaui Hard Hemmings (via abstractnumbers)

(via emdrumm)

Source: wordsthat-speak

We’re all born to broken people on their most honest day of living
and since that first breath; We’ll need grace that we’ve never given
I’ve been haunted by standard red devils and white ghosts
and it’s not only when these eyes are closed
these lies are ropes that I tie down in my stomach,
but they hold this ship together tossed like leaves in this weather
and my dreams are sails that I point towards my true north,
stretched thin over my rib bones, and pray that it gets better
but it won’t won’t, at least I don’t believe it will
so I’ve built a wooden heart inside this iron ship,
to sail these blood red seas and find your coasts.
don’t let these waves wash away your hopes
this war-ship is sinking, and I still believe in anchors
pulling fist fulls of rotten wood from my heart, I still believe in saviors
but I know that we are all made out of shipwrecks, every single board
washed and bound like crooked teeth on these rocky shores
so come on and let’s wash each other with tears of joy and tears of grief
and fold our lives like crashing waves and run up on this beach
come on and sew us together, tattered rags stained forever
we only have what we remember

I am the barely living son of a woman and man who barely made it
but we’re making it taped together on borrowed crutches and new starts
we all have the same holes in our hearts…
everything falls apart at the exact same time
that it all comes together perfectly for the next step
but my fear is this prison; that I keep locked below the main deck
I keep a key under my pillow, it’s quiet and it’s hidden
and my hopes are weapons that I’m still learning how to use right
but they’re heavy and I’m awkward; always running out of fight
so I’ve carved a wooden heart, put it in this sinking ship
hoping it would help me float for just a few more weeks
because I am made out of shipwrecks, every twisted beam
lost and found like you and me all scattered out on the sea
so come on let’s wash each other with tears of joy and tears of grief
and fold our lives like crashing waves and run up on this beach
come on and sew us together, just some tattered rags stained forever
we only have what we remember

My throat it still tastes like house fire and salt water
I wear this tide like loose skin, come on and rock me to sea
if we hold on tight we’ll hold each other together
and not just be some fools rushing to die in our sleep
all these machines will rust I promise, but we’ll still be electric
shocking each other back to life
your hand in mine, my fingers in your veins connected
our bones grown together in time
our hands entwined, your fingers in my veins braided
our spines grown stronger inside
because are church is made out of shipwrecks
from every hull these rocks have claimed
but we pick ourselves up, and try and grow better through this change
so come on yall and let’s wash each other with tears of joy and tears of grief
and fold our lives like crashing waves and run up on this beach
come on and sew us together, were just tattered rags stained forever
we only have what we remember


"My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gorged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can’t see. As for grief, you’ll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you’re drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it’s some physical thing. Maybe it’s a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it’s a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive. In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don’t even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you’ll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what’s going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything…and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life. Somewhere down the line, and it’s different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O’Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you’ll come out. Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don’t really want them to. But you learn that you’ll survive them. And other waves will come. And you’ll survive them too. If you’re lucky, you’ll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks."



Chemistry, I’ve heard some people have it.
An attraction that can’t be quantified or explained.
Is that the reason for this loss of control?

So why am I walking away from this?
Because when some chemicals mix they combust…and explode.


- Dexter

I found myself walking around an unfamiliar place. I was aware that this was not life, that somehow I reached whatever came next. My idea of heaven. My elevated state of consciousness. It was completely new to me. It was an empty, concrete environment.

It was the blank canvas of my heart and mind.

Everyone I walked by I have seen at some point in my life.

I recognized them.

I knew them.

With everyone I encountered, structures in the background began to grow, differentiating in size. The more I cared about someone, the higher the structure grew, resembling their impact on my life. I realized I was constructing a city based on how much I cared about the people in my life.

I recognized my family walking by me very quickly. Too quickly to talk.

I ran into someone from high school who I cared about but who I only spoke to for about a month of time. We were dressed in scarves and plaid pea coats, as if it was the fall. There was a hug and a laugh and the journey continued.

I found myself in a crowd of people dressed in the shadow of a growing, changing skyline.

The ground began to shake as some of the buildings began to give way. They would crumble and leave a cloud of dust.

I knew that this was it.

The dream was over.

And then I woke up.

I do my thing and you do your thing.
I am not in this world to live up to your expectations,
And you are not in this world to live up to mine.
You are you, and I am I,
and if by chance we find each other, it’s beautiful.
If not, it can’t be helped.

"I’ve been afraid of changing ‘cause I built my life around you — but time makes you bolder, children get older and I’m getting older too."

- Stevie Nicks - Landslide

We both sang along to the radio; a song I cannot remember but the words you spoke are ones I will never forget.


The full concept art from the opening title sequence to Mad Men.