I grew up a generally unhappy kid in New Jersey. When I turned 18 and had the opportunity to attend college, I chose a school in the most remote place imaginable: Montana. I chose the university there because someone from my favorite band had once attended (and then dropped out of) the school. To be completely honest, I also thought I was too stupid or too poor to get into anywhere else. The people I knew in New Jersey were studying on scholarship at Brown, Princeton, NYU, Clemson, and Duke. I felt completely worthless. My parents tried their best to encourage me to reach for the stars, like they had when they were my age, but it was pointless. I didn't know anyone who lived in Montana or had ever been there, but the idea of anonymity beckoned me like a siren on the high seas.
One day, I set up a social media account to connect with others online. One day, I checked it and found a message from someone named Emma. She told me she saw I was from New Jersey, which was great because she wanted to talk about the mafia. She also noted that we shared a favorite band and thought we might have a lot to talk about. After a brief exchange, we agreed to meet up and discovered we were enrolled in many of the same classes. I remember she said she would wear mustard yellow.
When we met, we immediately connected, and to this day, I've never felt more understood by anyone. Emma helped me become the person I was always meant to be, and I know I did the same for her. My friendship with Emma taught me what love means—true, authentic love that empowers each of you to achieve the best version of yourselves.
This item was made by Emma and contains the text of a private joke we shared one evening when she visited me at my parents' house. We were exhausted and full of laughter after a long day exploring New York City. This was one of her first attempts at embroidering letters.
