But it is all I have left to hope that those who decide to go out of their way to attack and degrade people they hardly know are doing so because they are hurting so badly inside that making someone else hurts lessens that pain. This is the only concept I have a grip on, any other reason for the intense amount of hate in the world, is far beyond what I can comprehend.

I wonder if the world ever ceases to be terrifying, or if it only gets worse as you age.

It was exploration, dedication, and inspiration. It was finding yourself. It was the hardest work we’d ever done in our lives. It was another cup of coffee to keep me up all night because my essay is due in three hours. It was excuses and bullshitting. It was are we sure we want to do this? It was our parents would kills us. It was one day at a time to get out alive. It was taking too many classes at once and somehow passing all of them. It was cold, it was whispers, it was gossip, it was have you seen the new girl, it was did you hear about what happened. It was painting our faces and going to all of the games. It was dating the football players, at least until the team started losing. It was crossing your fingers for a snow day. It was parties on the weekends and slave work on the week days. It was skipping class for lattes and calling yourself in sick. It was unforgettable. It was driving fast and running faster. It was one more time couldn’t kill us, and it was hit me with your best shot. It was an adventure for all of us. It was shopping, stealing, smoking, speeding, lying, cheating, screaming, fighting, fucking, hating, loving, learning, winning and losing. It was how do you keep from crying? It was three percentage points from passing. It was I can’t believe that just happened. It was counting down the days. It was I can’t believe it’s over. It was the worst year of our lives, it was the best year of our lives. It’s nothing but a yearbook and a diploma. It’s the story we’ll never tell.

I went to the pound today. I’m not actually looking to get a new dog yet, just kind of spending some time there to see if it starts to feel right to bring one home.

I met this little guy, his name was Bozo. Something about the way he approached me when I went to look in his cage stood out to me. Sort of like we had an understanding. I know, I know, it’s just a dog. With everything that has happened lately, though, I’ve found myself more alone than ever before. I simply don’t have as many good friends as I used to, and without my dog, my best friend, here to tell everything to, I haven’t felt connected to anyone, or anything.

Part of it was the timing. I just applied to graduate from my junior college, I just applied to a university four hours from home, and I’d just returned from a trip to that university the week he died. All of these feelings about growing up and leaving home weren’t settling well and then this dog I’d had, since I was eight years old, was just suddenly gone with so little warning. Every last piece of my childhood was being taken from me.

Alone really doesn’t describe it. Nothing described how I felt until I held this little dog. He was so eager, so sweet and loving, but he had no one, nothing. He was just this little man in a little cage waiting for good news. I held him, and I felt a connection to something living. A connection I’d been looking for so desperately.

That’s what I was, that’s what I am - a stray, waiting for good news.

being excited about the gifts you are going to give, not the gifts you may receive, is a wonderful exception.