but, choices.

There's something that happens right before you're about to take a leap. It's not faith, though. It's the ability to look past the stupidity of that moment, that decision, that That. If you say it's faith you're assuming a definitely positive outcome, and honestly, most big decisions are positive only in that you finally made a choice. They don't necessarily point to a fullness or hopefulness in the future. They might or might not. There's no such thing as a sure thing.

For a lot of leaps I can do that, I can leap however stupidly forward. I can follow a trail of bread crumbs hoping to find a candy house without a witch, all the while knowing there might be a witch. "Oven roast it when you get to it," should be a phrase.

But then again, for the things that involve someone else, limits impose themselves. It hurts too much to treat life and choices like they don't mean anything. Like what I do has no affect, and vice versa. The thing of it is, is, well, it means everything: life and choices. That's all life is, but a collection of choices: the ones you've made, the ones made for you, and the ones others make that affect you. Everything you do and everything you don't finds a way to take its toll on your heart. Heart, humanity, comme ci comme ça. So, there's nothing more natural than that moment of fight or flight, and nothing more telling about a person and their goals based on whether their "F" word has an "L" in it or not.

You only have one heart, after all.Chances are by now we've all been damaged irreparably, so we can't afford to be careless.

Dear Chicago,

You'll never guess.

You know the girl you said I'd meet someday?

Well, I've got something to confess.

She picked me up on Friday.

Asked me if she reminded me of you.

I just laughed and lit a cigarette,

Said "that's impossible to do. "

My life's gotten simple since.

And it fluctuates so much.

Happy and sad and back again.

I'm not crying out too much.

Think about you all the time.

It's strange and hard to deal.

Think about you lying there.

And those blankets lie so still.

Nothing breathes here in the cold.

Nothing moves or even smiles.

I've been thinking some of suicide.

But there's bars out here for miles.

Sorry about the every kiss.

Every kiss you wasted back.

I think the thing you said was true,

I'm going to die alone and sad.

The wind's feeling real these days.

Yeah, baby, it hurt's me some.

Never thought I'd feel so blue.

New York City, you're almost gone.

I think that I've fallen out of love,

I think I've fallen out of love...with you.

-Ryan Adams, Dear Chicago