Look at the stars lighting up in the sky, not one of them stays in the same place.

These feet belong to our friends, who I really love. The only reason I don’t call them family here is because they don’t look like me and because, for some reason, I often feel the pointless need to be stupid-accurate with my words because, for all intents and purposes, they are family to me.

Years ago I would not have been friends with them because I used to have stupid opinions about age differences and people in general and everything, really. I’m not sure if I was an idiot because I was unhappy, or if I was unhappy because I was an idiot, but eventually a little of my old ego died — and now I’m eager to let go of more. Looking back, it seems strange that the advent of open-mindedness was a revelation to me. That simple change in perspective is the only reason I found love and friends like these two. It seems so obvious today how much I needed to change back then. I want to keep going, but despite all the proof I have about the origin of these improvements, I still have trouble with the quest of taking it even further:

It isn’t that I have been right or wrong about the things I chose to believe. What I think is irrelevant. Instead, it is my gradual understanding that the less I stand for anything, the better life becomes. And I need some time to understand the conflict inherent in that conclusion.