Something about this bridge... Something about that April
afternoon a couple of years ago... It just made sense to go.
To get up, to leave and go. I followed it. I'll say this much...
The butterflies never left me. They don't know how to leave.
Once you have them, they're yours... They tattoo your insides
with a certain kind of ink. They are a part of who you are...
Your tummy will forever be grateful. And that, to me, is
beautiful. To the non-believers? Look inside. Let go. What
are you afraid of? It's just a bridge. - #19, Holding Midfield
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