6 six billion, 9 hundred and 90 million, 3 hundred and 15 thousand, 8 hundred and 76 chances...
to run to something, to run from something.
to hide, to seek; to exist or just to live.
6, 990, 315, 876 people in this world.
somehow, each and every person in that number
is one hundred percent significant to me.
Significance, coincidence, or fate; it all assimilates together in the end.
Because of all the moments I have experienced,
of all the accidentally dialed phone calls, all the shaky handed but completely on purpose dialed calls,
of all the nights slipping in the back door moments before sunrise, all the nights staying in watching chick flicks that ill never admit i secretly love,
of all the 4 am gas station coffee runs, and the realization that i absolutely can not stand coffee or gas station runs
throughout all of that, I have interacted with at least one person in the 6,990,315,876.
and that person has laughed, cried, fallen in love with another person in the 6,990,315,876.
and that person has also laughed, cried, fallen in love with a completely different person in the 6,990,315,876
and that person has laughed with a completely different person,
and that person has cried with a completely different person,
and that person has fallen in love with a completely different person
all within the 6,990,315,876 people existing
right now.
Somehow, through all the interactions with others
all the wrong left turns ive taken, or even all the right wrong turns;
all the sunny days spent alone, or all the friday nights spent with friends
all the times I heard my favorite songs live, but had no one to share the moment with, or
all the times I heard my favorite songs in my best friends car, and felt infinite;
all of these times and moments have led me up to here, to you.
6 billion, 9 hundred 90 million, 3 hundred 15 thousand, 8 hundred 76 people.
6 billion, 9 hundred 90 million, 3 hundred 15 thousand, 8 hundred 76 chances.
and somehow, the world showed me I only need 1.
Truth be told,
you're the way a sunset looks when it glows on the sheets of lovers' unmade beds.
you're the expression on a childs face, christmas morning, when he or she discovers that santa did indeed come down through the chimney bearing gifts once again.
you're the beautifully crazy sound of music blasting through a car that has windows rolled completely down, driving the backroads to an undecided destination.
and i am that shred of innocence that you find under 3 am street lights.
the kind that flickers on when the night no longer feels right.
the kind you find when you think youve lost all hope
the kind that saves you, the kind that brings you home.
approach so slow, i wont go anywhere.
drown me in your curious stare.
distance between us, closing in.
will this be the beginning or end?
learning not to get fear and faith confused
but that first October morning i realized something new
with only clothes between us,inches to go
when im with you, im at home.
