it's knowing that after a night that strangely reminds you of old times, even bitter cold can't fight the smiles. instead you sing, and rage, and laugh all while talking yourself through every motion on the ride home - out loud. its a safe place to let the fears out to scheme and plot against you. let the tears roll along and let yourself be free to feel the panic, only to be brought back to a living room where the lighting is brilliant enough to make you forget who you are. the terrors of our lives are waiting just outside the door, but in those small hours it just doesn't seem to matter. and i'll take that feeling with me, and i'll go out singing, raging, and laughing. thinking of the most inspiring, insane, fucked up people i've had the fortune to know.

PS.

"she saw the people around her and scoffed at the way they threw in the towel. the way they sold off their dreams for a mini-van and a well-manicured lawn."

You need an explanation? There it is. Follow the dream. It's not about interests, or what you're good at. It's about how your soul sings along when you hear a song, or how your heart does flips when the curtain falls. It's about the dreams. Don't sell yourself for anything less. You can bet I won't.