Lives matter.

Your life. My life. That man at the crosswalk. That woman who just held the door open for you. Your first grade teacher. Your BFF from 7th grade who broke your heart when he moved away. The girls you played Light As A Feather, Stiff As A Board with at birthday sleepovers. The musically talented, shy kid who nailed his surprise lines in the show. The dude who made the most affecting piece of high school art you’ve ever seen. The football player with a winning smile who could always make *you* smile. The boy from 11th grade who gave you butterflies and once made out with you for hours. The giggly girls with whom you sneaked underage booze and talked all night. The guy with the tattoos, piercings, and jeep up on shocks who went overseas. The kid you met in line while getting your college ID who brought you soup when you were sick and then got way too cool (he was *really* cool). The artsy ladies with whom you formed a secret society. The mischief-makers who found ways into off-limits theatre spaces to give your class lasting memories. Your first real boss who stressed you out way too much. Your best friends through the years who have given you love and laughter and doses of real-talk and are always there no matter what. The heartbreakers. The nice lady who chatted you up on the patio of the bar this summer and offered a hug just when you were about to crack. The chick in the car in front of you this morning who was driving 10mph in a 30mph zone and driving *you* bonkers. Your Mom. Your Dad. Your siblings. Your cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents. The guy who always lets you interrupt his walks so you can pet his dog when you see them out and about. The person you just hit it off with at that thing the other day – you think you’re going to be good friends. The hundreds of people you haven’t seen since elementary school, middle school, high school graduation, college graduation, moving away from home, leaving a job, ending a show, ending a relationship, closing a chapter of your life…