Click.

As this is prolly gonna be a week of me mindlessly quoting myself, I must say I still agree with this:

About ten years ago I read a poem – I can’t remember the poem, or who wrote it. But I remember the author saying something about waiting for one picture to come, one photo that was going to bring his life into focus and make all the difference. Somehow I’ve remembered that and it’s gnawed at me. I’ve always teetered between that sentiment and the feeling that I’m setting myself up for even more disaster. But I can't help but feel it right now, that there’s one single thing that’s going to come into my life and give it air, give it purpose. Just one fucking thing. One moment. That’s what I'm doing, waiting for that one thing in my life that will make all the difference.

Maybe it's you.