| − | I'm a forevermore. And as I ponder myself as a two-year tragedy, you know, I've got many regrets. I've always wanted to be a bigger part of CTY. I wanted to join the Alcove, to be a big part of the whole king and queen and jack and satan thing, to create traditions--traditions that last as long as they have been. But, no, I am a two-year tragedy. Yes, I've been to Turkey Hill four times in one session; yes, I played the Game all day long; yes, I've done ISO's; yes, I created ARSE (American Rat Screw EXTREME); yes, I've been to the Devil's Den and the Anita Tuvin Schlechter and Massey's thrice, and danced with Galen; yes: 42 = 1337% * π, and you just lost the game--and the post game. I've acted like flying sheep and couched in the HUB and blocked Frank Wang's superhard shot in soccer tournament and beat the staff team. Hollitherrr. But there's something missing. It's the people: the people who made all this possible; friends, instructors, and RAs who made everything so fun and so fucking awesome. Let alone getting up at 4 in the morning for a Passionfruit and chanting "Pie Jesu Domine, dona eis requiem" as I hit myself on the head with a tray and drinking vitaminwater to cure myself for a fake disease and witness Frank Wang next door bring the spewing fire extinguisher out to the balcony and evacuate as fire alarms go off... if you weren't there; - if you, all of you, who were with me, whoever you are, had we not been in the same site, had we not been at CTY, I would not be the same. So, I've decided: it doesn't matter whether I've been a big part of CTY because CTY is a big part of me. It is me. It's molded my shape and my mind, my view of this world and its people, my view of you. I love CTY and I love the passionfruit; and I love you.
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