Tom Spurgeon’s You Can Lead a Messiah to Water, But You Can’t Make Him Walk. Written 9 years ago, but it shakes me to the core every time I read it.
Just the tiniest taste:
I used to keep comics bagged and the best ones taped mosaic-style to the wall above my bed; it never occurred to me this was dopey until the fifth grade. Learning about how to design a room to fit your personality, a little girl named Holly with big, brown eyes that dominated her head like a muppet’s turned to me and said, “I bet your room is full of antiques.” This was devastating, although as I got older I would become much more accustomed to disappointing women.
Now just go read it already.