The thing is with the earth is that for a great while, she'll catch your every step and applaud your every word. She'll be your cheerleader and whisper things like "great job" and "you can do it" in your ear. And then, all of a sudden, just when you thought you needn't watch your step, the ground will get soft and you'll sink just enough where you have no choice but to ask for her help to get back onto solid ground. And the two of you will go into lengthy conversations about how a while back you made a promise to make sure "this" wouldn't happen again. And she's just being the friend you asked her to be by reminding you that each step, each word, each thought has to be on point.

and its those soft reminders that leave stains on your elbows and knees and sometimes your chin. From here on out, I've decided not to let the stains disappear completely - and use them as pigmented reminders that life's not as perfect as it seems.

So in the mean time, while the stains fade, I'll be here in this city creating some solid ground for you and me to walk on (preferably on our way to a bar and a boutique).