I never wanted to be one of those people with the road map so close to their face they don't know where they're going.
I'd rather put the map down, take wrong turns, and embrace each day never really knowing.

Paducah was in a sad state when I went home. All the Jesus-kids had turned into drug addicts. The drug addicts had turned into memorialists because they're dying off faster than the American Buffalo. It still felt like home, but in a strange warped way with building gone in some places, and new ones where they shouldn't be. My height chart in my closet had been painted over and now I have no clue how much I've grown.
Erin and I layed around and talked and cried and confessed...and it wasn't just like old times. It was something different. It wasn't better or worse, just more mellow. I'm starting to see that happiness is a choice we make. It's a matter of seeing the sun through the clouds on an overcast day. It may not be visible, but it's there.