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I went home last weekend to Pittsburgh to celebrate my Dad’s induction to his college Hall of Fame.  He was a wrestler at Washington & Jefferson in the 123 weight class, and an all around legend.

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While I was home (in the 41true as I like to call it), I went snooping through my old college notebook and stumbled upon some random thoughts that were hidden between lines and lines of mix tape ideas that I had written out.  In reading through all of them, I realized that my time spent in class was not taking notes, but rather writing little lines of nothings.  Here are some of those ditties:

“Nights all have conclusions.  If anyone’s tallying their results at home, there are far fewer that get marked as successes than those that are ultimately great failures. Everyone continues hoping for the score to even out. No one puts on their club clothes thinking that the night, and what the heart is seeking, is going to wind up as just another one of the dark statistics, but inevitably the odds are stacked like a mother fucker.”

—–

“Someone once told me that they love me and I had never felt happier in my life. Months later, that same person told me that they missed me, and I, again, was overcome with emotions. I say emotions because what I felt was a hybrid of two conflicting but correlating feelings. Not sadness because I missed them as well, and not happiness either. It was a mixture of emotions; something only felt when your heart sinks but races at the same time. When you hit the memory button and your mind is on repeat and fast forward at the same time.  I guess what I’m trying to say is; hearing that someone misses you means much more than hearing that someone loves you.  It’s the fact that loving and missing are bundled together, but just loving – love stands alone.”

\m/ SBG \m/

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