I wish I could fix it.

I wish I could heal it.

I wish I could erase it.

I can't.

Maybe all I can do is offer to carry something

Questions I get a lot: "How old are you?" or "What are you--five years old?" or "Why do you look so ridiculous right now?"

It’s not Cupid’s arrow in your back, not God’s pen on the paper, not destiny’s gravitational pull-- it’s programmers at a desk, faces lit with the blue light from their computer screens, armed with data analysis and coding skills and a 5-hour Energy. We have the formula, they’ll tell you. Ones and zeros. 

I don’t buy it.

Everything I do that seems like it's risky, I do because there's an element of knowing--I know the odds, I know my strengths and my limits, I know how far I'm jumping and what I'm jumping into. For me, there's not a ton of true courage required.

Pacha responds with what’s at the foundation of any working relationship: “You’re just going to have to trust me."

I watch this scene, and it screams to me about the significance of trust.