It is a strange thing
to be given freedom
on a day meant to
commemorate it.
Especially, when
you didn’t want this
freedom in the first place.

Now I’m back and I want to cry a little bit. One of my best friends doesn’t seem to remember me. Two months and my dog doesn’t remember me. Hedwig doesn’t remember me. I feel dead inside. I knew he was old, and I knew that he might lose some faculties, but he doesn’t even remember me. Nearly fourteen years together of playing and wrestling and nurturing and dancing and hugging and just everything. All of that was erased in two months.

Unfortunately, this is no longer a Happy Thanksgiving for me. Hopefully, this is a happier day for all of you.

Run, don’t walk.

Scream, don’t talk.

Hit, don’t hold.

Crush, don’t mould.

Hate, don’t love.

Guns, not doves.

Just a fuss.

Yes, that’s us.