Lines Leading Home

I sit here staring at the horizon, the kind of sky that makes you believe in something bigger than yourself, and the kind of quiet that lets you hear your own heart beating.

All these lines on my face, they aren’t just scars of time; they’re roadmaps of every mountain I’ve climbed, every ocean I’ve crossed, every mistake I’ve made. And there’s been plenty of those - lines drawn in the sand, rules meant to be followed but broken anyway. But somehow, breaking them made more sense when it was for you.

I’ve been broke before, flat-out broke, but you - God, you made me feel like the richest man alive. Not because of anything flashy or loud, but because you looked at me like I was worth more than all the mistakes, more than all the ghosts I carry around.

People see the smile on my face and think it’s easy, think I’ve got it all figured out. But they don’t know the wars I’ve fought in my own mind, the mess I keep buried just beneath the surface. They don’t see me like you do. You see every scar and still call it beautiful. You see the broken pieces and don’t flinch.

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? Life doesn’t mean much if you’ve got no one to share the stories with. Without you, all the lines and all the mess - they’d just be noise in an empty room. But with you, every crack in my foundation feels like it was made to hold you closer. Every road I’ve taken somehow led me right here.

It’s true, every road I’ve taken was always leading me home to you.