The memories' summary
When I think of Hillsdale I'm filled with hatred and with love. And, in a weird way I can't figure out, those two are inseperable. I hate Hillsdale and I love it. But that’s only one emotion, sort of. My memories of the place are indivisible intertwinings of the darkest of dark times and these illuminated moments of victory and accomplishment. The place came close to killing me, which I say seriously, and it gave me salvation.
I have no idea if I’m going back.