Writing a memoir for one of my finals and I’m currently writing a large section on Young Chicago Authors and Louder Than A Bomb. In the middle of writing it, I started crying. I forget when I’m gone sometimes how much I love that place, how much it has shaped me and how much I miss it. I was getting teary the whole time, but when I wrote “the point is not the points, the point is the poetry” I lost it - sob fest. Granted, they were happy tears, tears that come from being part of an amazing organization that has not only improved my craft, but has given me a community that I adore and friends that I love and respect more than anything - both as artists, and as humans. I am immensely lucky that Toaster decided to take me to Wordplay randomly after we became friends. I am lucky that people took me under their wing and accepted me. I am beside myself with happiness that I am a part of that organization and that community. I love them and everything they’ve given with all of my heart. Forreal.