“and then you bring me home ‘cause we both know
what its like to be alone, no. and I’m dreaming in your
living room but we don’t have much room to live”

i always loved airports, the overpriced food, the
tacky souviners that you buy people you didn’t
bother to think about until the last minute, the
people watching, and the airline peanuts. it
reminds me of a circus, everything and everyone
dancing around you.

of course that was until i got older and i realized
it’s kind of a sad place, full of people, always leaving.
and indeed i’m no exception. i’m always leaving too.

most days i feel justified in my head. i know the things
i need to do, the dreams i have to make happen, and
there’s no reason to feel anything but drive. until i see
that face and it always melts my resolve and suddenly
i wish i could stay. stay and look at stars, stay where
i don’t belong, stay and laugh and cry and… feel.
because alone, out here, i get numb. and you’re the
only thing that wakes me up, the only one who knows me. 

but here i am, back in my home made of bricks. back
to the grind of following my heart and lord knows i wouldn’t
change this city or my dreams for the world. this isn’t me
complaining. just the harsh reality of remembering that
hollywood’s not america, that the world doesn’t orbit around
my steadfast determination, and that in the end it’ll still always
be that face that brings me home.