Each and every time I garner this undue acknowledgement, I begin to feel oddly like a fraud. Like I should craft some uniform and eloquent riposte to dole out to every person I’ve unintentionally deceived. One that makes it totally clear that I’ve done nothing remarkable. I may have been unafraid, but foolishly so. In fact, I cried four separate times because of momentary lonesomeness or because, like a child, all of my friends were together and I wasn’t there.