I sat at my computer with this churning in my chest. It was late, 11 o'clock - and I still come home from work. I sat there - confronted by time. Being forced to acknowledge that I am in fact, growing old. (Don't worry, I haven't started using night creme yet...)

This is how it went down. I was working late at the office, and was listening to a power mix on Spotify when one of my favorite songs came on. As I typed away, the song ended and I felt the need to rewind and listen again. I found myself singing along, I do that when I'm in the office alone. Oh, but this time I felt myself really listening to the words - the words, 'while our bloods still young, so young it runs'. And in that moment, I felt differently about that line than I ever had.

In the past, when jamming (yep) out to this song - I identified with it. I felt it was about me. I felt I was singing about our blood - being so young it runs. But just now, I felt like that season was gone.

And I felt the need to write a letter. To this girl.

A letter reminding her she can always find her way back home. She can always find comfort in his arms. That even though his arms change, they always stay the same.

That her heart will get ripped out and put back in by things she didn't expect. That she'll be forced to confront the person she feels she is, and the person she wants to be. Needs to be. Is told to be.

But no matter who she becomes, she'll always be able to find her way back home. She can always find the girl she once was, that the boy she still loves - here.