Someday, I will have no neighbors. I will be dead, but I will have no neighbors. And God will finally explain to me why I was punished so harshly in this lifetime by such horrible, horrible people. I like to think that He will tell me it was all a gift. That once I stopped crying and screaming and cutting and praying and drinking and eating M&Ms and pulling my hair out over each one of these yayhoos, I found the humor. I was given hours of hilarious conversations and for those, He will remind me, I was grateful. Then, He will show me to my new fluffy cloud with nothing but blue skies for miles and miles in any direction. And all will be forgiven. Not forgotten. But forgiven.