“A few years ago, I was on one of those stupid field trips to a farm. I was probably high as a kite, and my mind wasn’t the most stable in the world, but I remember seeing this chicken with a bunch of baby chicks running around with her. They were so little. Pure and beautiful. There was something about them that stood out to me. Something that reminded me of you. The next day at school, I called you Chick, and you hated every second of it, but I loved it, because whenever I called you that nickname, I knew a part of me was calling you pure and beautiful.”
