I have been writing in a journal on an almost-daily basis since I was 17 years old. This is a record of me going through each entry from the beginning, and commenting on the me from fifteen years ago.

Sometimes, Wade, you can hit it right on the nail head. Amidst all the goofiness and laughter we share, there is a hint of seriousness. A taste of something profound, I don’t think either of us know what it is. To me you sent the fortune:

“Happiness is Contagious Pass it on.”

I will, my friend, I will. And with all the freeness of my heart will I tell those who receive my gift that the one to truly thank is you.

Funny how time distorts things, because I now remember Wade as always being kind of a dick. One of those friends you have because you just don’t have anything better going on. He was one of those guys we all tolerated because he had his moments of hilarity, but for the most part we kind of wished he’d go away. He also had a habit of breaking our stuff. I had no idea I held him in this high of regard. Whaddya know.