So we’re driving way faster than we should be through country roads that are nowhere near where we should be going and everything is good. I tell you how the only time I’m not at rock bottom is when we’re screaming that song about volcanoes at the top of our lungs and you tell me that when you hit rock bottom you just keep digging.
So we’re in the middle of a jewellery shop in my favourite city on earth and you put a necklace with a triangle around my neck and say “here, it’s to represent that volcano from that song that makes you happy” and I cry in the middle of the shop because I love you so fucking much.
And when we get home you tell me that the only reason you ever put the shovel down to stop digging was me and it’s then that I realise I was wrong when I tell everyone that my favourite place is your house. My favourite place is you.