What I Live For

I live for the moments where I can be with my friends. The type of laugh where you’re laughing so hard it’s causing me to laugh, which is causing you to laugh even harder.

For the moments where I feel as if I’m pouring my heart out to you. I don’t know where it’s going to lead, but I understand that, just maybe, me and you might make a special connection by being honest as humans.

I live for the moments of having uncomfortable conversations. Because behind that uncomfortableness is a chance to know you better.

I live for the moments where I’m chasing a sunrise. The kind where you think, "Man, it’s too damn cold for this," but then you see it, and it’s one beautiful sunrise.

I live for the 12 a.m. conversations where we know we shouldn’t be up this late, but we’re enjoying each other’s company so much that we don’t want to say goodbye.

I live for the sunsets that stop you in your tracks. The ones that make you think, “Is the world ending?”

I live for the breathtaking moments where I can’t even comprehend how beautiful Earth is.

I live for the moments where I’ve messed up. Because it’s just a mistake. Life happens.

I live for the trips where I don’t know the language, but I know there will be humans with unexpected generosity that I didn’t earn nor deserve.

I live for the moments of expression because they make me feel free.

I live for the moments of people-watching because I wonder how you see the world. I’d love to see it through your eyes.

I live for the moments where I see that you’re happy—because that makes me happy. It’s nice seeing others win.

I live for hugs. They’re nice.

I live for the moments where I can sit on top of sand dunes with my best friends and think, "Fuck, what did I do to deserve this?"

I live for the moments where I can cook for my friends. No promises that it’ll be good food, though.

I live for the future moment when I’ll have my own place to call home. A place where I can host events for strangers who could turn into friends.

I guess I live to find a home now. I’m beginning to understand the saying, "Home is where the heart is."

I live for the moments where I can call you up and say, "Hey, let’s go get food," and I know you’re down.

I live for the moments where I can capture pure emotion, joy, and the rawness of life.

For the moments when I think, "Holy fuck, this is a good soundtrack for a video."

For the competitive moments where we’re pushing each other to be the best versions of ourselves.

For the moments where I’m crying—the moments of uncertainty where I’m questioning my life, questioning why I feel this way. Because what is life without the lows?

For the future moment of seeing my kid experience the world for the first time.

For the future moment of realizing, "Ah, I was naive," or "Man, was I stupid." Because that means I’ve messed up. And messing up is how we learn.

I live for the moments where we’re laughing so hard that you’re falling backward, your hair touches the dog’s water bowl, I’m holding you up to stop it from going in, but your laughter makes me laugh so hard that I drop your head near the bowl. Then you react just in time to avoid soaking it, only to get up so quickly while laughing that you hit your head on the corner of the table.