scratchpaper.txt

I don't love you or accept you unconditionally. My happiness will come from having been in your shoes, from having felt stupid and frustrated, and from knowing I had a small part in turning your frustration into confidence. My happiness will be conditional, sure, but it will be real -- like my drill sergeant in the Army, who saw a fat kid with a weak upper body and vast reserves of self loathing struggling to get up and over a wall at the beginning of basic training, and who worked with him on diet and running and pushups to get his weight under control, and then one day who saw me get up and over that wall on my way to becoming a stone cold warrior.