About a month and a half ago, my very wise Grandma Judy said to me, "when God closes one door, he opens another."
Or something to that effect. I would quote directly, but my school has banned evil Facebook from usage.
At the time I was feeling like a pile of not-quite-human shit, reeling at the completely unfair hand that life had dealt me. Well, now time has passed, and prespectives have changed, and as that door behind me slid into its jamb and finally settled into its place, not only did another door open, but the best person that's ever happened to me came walking through.

Grandmas are so wise.

Through countless amounts of lachrymal secretions blown into the nearest item of soiled laundry; through hand cramps and spent pens and about thirty trees worth of journal paper; through the exhaustion of any unsuspecting eardrum within my vicinity; through the answer of why this happened and where this is going finally seeming to come into focus; and through meeting Forrest, I am well on my way to being myself again...

Regardless of the fact that my life for the past few months reads like an outline for any given episode of Jerry Springer, I am happy.