Picture this. It's almost two in the morning. The neighborhood is quiet as it can be. All you hear are cars and the occasional police siren. You can see lights from Manhattan from your porch. You know the bridge over the Narrows is right behind you. You've got a cigarette burning itself down and you haven't even taken a drag yet.

You sit there and think "what the hell am I doing here?" You spent the night before drinking yourself to a blackout and kissing boys you didn't really know, just to show your excuse of a boyfriend that you can get better hands all over you. You wonder why you're not talking to your parents or why they don't care that they don't know where you are. You wonder why alcohol makes everything better. You wonder why you went through the things you've been though. Why you deserved it. Why you made some of those choices.

And now the cigarette has burned out and you wonder if it's worth it to light another one, just because you might actually smoke this one. But you decided to go inside instead and make a cup of coffee. Maybe you'd sleep tonight. You passed out at the kitchen table but woke up before your grandparents. You make a bagel and get ready for church. You go and pray and thank God that you lived another day.

You blink. You turn your head and look at the mountains and the chapel from your room at the Air Force Academy. It's almost two in the morning and you don't want to sleep so you go to the hallway and sit at one of the six chairs where you and your friends have had countless conversations. You take the last sip of the coffee you made and you get into your bed. You wake up to the sun shining through your windows and get ready for church. You go and pray and thank God for guiding you to turn around.

You remember where you were and where you are. Be proud but don't forget.