Jake gave me a connect-the-dots calendar for Christmas. Every day, I draw a new line. As the month progresses, an image begins to take shape.
I've packed away my calendar, along with everything that added my personality and made me feel that this was mine; not just this apartment, but Mizzou and Columbia, too.
These aren't mine anymore. How can that not make me sad?
This month is becoming a butterfly on my calendar. It's erie. Why a butterfly this month, the month I gather in my arms the past four years of life and use them to become something new?
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