There is nothing like lying down beneath the stars, with the rain sliding down your face, and opening your mouth, and just laughing as lightning sears the sky with deep purple scars, and thunder echoes your own laughter. There is nothing like spreading your arms, letting the wind pull at your clothes, as you walk down the dirt paths, bathing in the scent of spring's ripe awakening. There is nothing like driving to school, the heat blasting, and looking out the window to a landscape of sparkling snow, a blanket of whispering white, and then seeing the sky, burnt sapphire and orange. There is nothing like walking out of school, the air warm once more, and looking to the west, and seeing splintered shafts of light piercing broken clouds. There is nothing like the waves against the rocks, the wind in the sails, and that beautiful scent of ocean saltwater. There is nothing like the solar system, nothing like an unreachable universe filled with millions and millions of galaxies.

David Crowder is right: "There is no one like You. There has never, ever been anyone like You."