There's a lot of things I've been wrong about in life – As a child I thought I'd save the world, as a teenager I thought I'd have it all figured out by 21 and as an adult I thought it would snow today but instead it rained. Yet on the day we met, I somehow knew you and I would intertwine. It's been 1,283,040 hours since that thought and now you are as much a part of me as the Pacific Ocean running through my veins; you exist both within me and beside me like the Atlantic air that we both breathe.
I don't know where we will be in another 891 days but I do know that I could write novels about the way you pull me closer in to you while you sleep without waking or about how your voice sounds when I overhear you saying my name from across the room. I used to laugh about how I was born with steel toes made for kicking lovers to the curb when they got too close but sometime last year I realized the steel has been replaced with a compass that always points me back to you.