I crave the unfamiliar, while simultaneously dreading it. Excitement but with apprehension. The familiar is not mundane, instead it is comforting. Comfort does not equate with weakness. It is love.

I want to go back to Mary and Jay's living room. Chicken nuggets, ranch dressing, and Coke in a glass. I remember that night Brian and I played Gamecube while I had an asthma attack. I could hardly breath but was as happy as I had ever been.

My life is a product of grace and benevolence. I've come to expect it in others, which is a mistake. It is something I should provide. Besides my needless prejudices, I convey selfishness. This is misguided. I was born with a wreath of flowers in my hair and a bouquet in my hands. The God of Love smiled upon me. This much I should return in kind.