I leave for college on Monday.
I've cried more in the last week than I have at any other point in my life.
And during one of my breaking points tonight, I remembered something.
When I turned thirteen, my mom made me a book of advice and shit.
She had relatives and teachers and the like send me letters or words of wisdom they felt the need to pass on.
Of course, a thirteen year old doesn't really give a shit.
However, an eighteen year old, desperately searching for advice can appreciate a book by Mr. Rogers, a letter from her grandfather, a series of important quotes.
Last night, I said goodbye to my two best friends--and one of them ha