defining moments don't present themselves as such until after the moment is gone. big decisions only seem big in the light of a new day. reliving a defining moment is easy: just think back to a time where everything changed. a time when you no longer were the person you once were. think back and remember a time that, at one time, seemed like nothing special. the big times come and go with a whimper, we only attribute the bang when we look back. foolishly, we live life moment to moment, only looking back when we catch ourselves in the mirror. through the looking glass you see age lines and wisdom. you see that you are no longer the person you once were. so you look back, stare through the mirror, into your past, pinpointing the decision that changed you. reliving a defining moment in your history is something you do when you're in the future. we pretend and present ourselves with these moments as explanations. the truth is there are no defining moments, but a lifetime of definitions.

restful sleep regardless

the rocking of the train leads me to dreams. soundtracked by calming signer songwriters, sometimes i open my sleepy eyes to catch glimpses of the belgian countryside. covered in snow, the view is pristine and i pull my coat closer, as if i could feel the wind's chill through the plate glass windows. sleep on a fast train is different than that in bed. sitting, your head against the window, you can almost feel every nook in the tracks. every leaf, every bit of snow that found itself under the wheels. falling asleep on a fast train, your dreams are invaded by every sound, every conversation. all of a sudden, you dream in italian, then japanese. you translate your dreams subconsciously. you translate your dreams however you want to. the rocking of the trains puts me to sleep, and as much as i want to watch the landscape pass me by, i give in. all you need are those sleepy glances out the window amid dreams anyway.

with each departure, the next one feels easier. instead of dissipating, my wanderlust increases with the addition of a new stamp in my passport. twenty-three years, and i'm finally beginning my own journey. my goal of hitting every corner of the earth is underway. south in summer? north in winter? flock to where the wind takes me. two weeks away, soaking up a culture completely alien to me. time at home to process. put everything in order and realize completely just how much i loved what i did. in the moment, everything compares to everything else. looking back and i see everything as it truly was.

with each departure, i need a homecoming. i can't do months away - hit every corner in one jumble of a trip. this aspect of my life i'll do in pieces. break up the world tour so i'm not overwhelmed, or worse, comparing everything to the first city.

my wanderlust will never dry up, i'll never be a static character in my own story. two weeks away, growth and new insights. i have to come home to share it, i can't keep it bottled up. i'm a door waiting to be opened, a secret waiting to be shared.

we grew up worlds apart

my first language

is your fourth

you've seen more of the world

up close

all the countries i fly over

you walk through

we're from different worlds

comparable to different planets

rotating around a common sun

two nights

all we had

all we'll ever have

worlds apart

and i don't know a lick of your

first language

but you tell me it's okay

some of our words

are the same

in the depths of winter, my soul reaches farther than the oldest cellar. your wide-eyed stares take in my cold interior, darkened by the lack of sun and cooled by the wind that regularly rushes through. catch your breath, it's visible when you exhale. numb noses and chapped lips. int he depths of winter, you can reach the depths of me. climb farther down, my warm air sinks. closer to the core, where my heart radiates from, climb down. warmer, getting warmer. in the stark, bare, center of winter, you can find heat if you dig a little deeper. if you play in my foundations, discover my secrets. in the depths of winter, i leave my doors open.

sometimes all it takes is one snowy night with a view overlooking the city. that's all it takes - and you're in love. with a city, a night, a life, a love. one night climbing a snowy, slippery hill to realize how slippery everything is - and there need to be more nights, and days, like this. more cups of coffee overflowing into sliding down a carless street with people who do nothing but smile crooked smiles. the language of night is universal, and crosses time zones. cross more time zones. learn how to say "kiss" in more tongues. sometimes all it takes is one snowy night to make you fall in love with snow. to fall and laugh at the bottom. one breathtaking nighttime view of a city is all you need. everyone should be so lucky.

no one deserves a tragedy. surrounded by bloodshed and tears is not somewhere anyone should be. broken bones and ripped muscles are better as metaphors. tragedy isn't understandable, it happens without cause or reason. i can talk myself into believing most things, but physical hurt and destruction escape me. escape my words. i can't talk it away. no one can. no one should have to.

a beautiful setting and a gorgeous man do not a good story make. together, alone, they are a skeleton. the bones of life minus the meat. a beautiful setting, a backdrop of greens and blues is aesthetically pleasing but emotionless. passion does not lie solely in architecture, in swatches of nature. alone, it provides the outline to your story. and the gorgeous man is but only a single player. interesting for only so long. interesting until he's not.

good stories are comprised of more. dialogue, complex characters, motive, emotion, passion. extreme love, lust, desire, hate, disgust. a story worthy of your time runs the gamut. making you sad, so you appreciate happiness. causing heartache to highlight the heartsmiles.

a beautiful setting and a gorgeous man are but two parts to a greater whole. two bones in the skeleton. a colorful backdrop plus one character can only take you so far. not far. not far enough. one man can only provide you with so much. one facet of everything your good story, your great and complete story, needs. life can not be lived like a static character. unmoving, unchanging.

a good story deserves beautiful settings and a gorgeously good to you, good for you, cast. you were born to live in settings too beautiful for words with people who take your breath away.

don't waste that breath on just anything.

warm colors

ringing bells filtering through windows

dinner's soundtrack.

lulled to sleep

the hum of cars driving by

the sound of horns and late night passersby

punctuating dreams

making them seem more real.

late night

cold enough to be wrapped up

warm enough to only use sheets

warm colors everywhere

sounds all over, all the time

comforting

enveloping

filtering

lulling

dreaming.

warm air blowing through windows

warm air blowing in my dreams.

don't be sad for me.

i know i haven't found your happiness

but i am happy.

don't wish the best for me

out of pity

i have the best for me

in spite

of the sideways glances

and the reassuring embraces.

i haven't found what you have

but our maps were different.

mine led me to endless horizons,

of chasing the sun over the dateline.

i want to fall asleep and wake up

on the other side of the world.

wish that for me.

wish for safe travels and many departures.

don't be sad for me

i found my version of your happiness.

for now.

my map is still changing

i'm still chasing the endless horizon

and one day i'll close my eyes

fall asleep

and maybe my dream will have aligned with yours

you won't have to be sad for me any longer.

my veins will be your map, guiding you to my center. every ounce of blood in me runs through my heart at some point. follow the flow, find the source. my veins will be your guide.

i bleed and my heart beats faster, trying to stem the flow. rush blood to where i need it most, don't let me bleed out. don't let me bleed dry. my heart knows when i'm torn and works harder to stem the flow.

my body, like myself, is not perfect. i break. i ache. i pull myself together, sometimes i let it all go. my body is not perfect. i break. i am broken.

my body is resilient. i am broken, there are ways to fix me. sew me. repair me. i'm never beyond repair. not until i'm not. my body will eventually jump back. it is resilient.

my veins will be your lamppost, illuminating your path. a sea of red. the color of the flame to guide you on your way. deeper. further. down to my very core. my veins will be your lamppost. offer stability, offer light.

every ounce of blood in me circulates. it sees everything, goes everywhere. follow the flow and you'll see all of me. follow the flow, find the source.

my heart. surrounded by a moat of blood, an armor of bones. find my center, find my heart. drenched in my blood, embrace me. my veins were your guide, they never steered you wrong. in my heart, in my center, do right by your guide. do right by me. do right.