I want to build something. Something great. Something memorable. I want it to last forever. To outlast everything, even us. I want it to be hand-made, from bits of me and you. The good and the bad. The truth of what we have, however immeasurable and uncapturable it may be. Ill build it out of chords, not brick. To extract the proper fondness and feelings. And because chords can better speak to what we have here. And because, this way, our passion may live forever on the tongues of those who've learned our song. A song that will still be sung long after the bricks have crumbled. A song that will inspire even the loneliest of souls to hold on and hope for even a fraction of what we have. I want to build it to remember. To record. To prove that it existed. Just in case. Just in case we are the only ones.

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[par-uh-shoot] noun, verb, -chut·ed, -chut·ing.
a folding, umbrellalike, fabric device for allowing a person, to float down safely through the air from a great height.

“But it’s hard to stay mad when there’s so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I’m seeing it all at once and it’s too much. My heart fills up like a balloon that’s about to burst. And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can’t feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life.” — American Beauty