Vandalism is often deemed detrimental, a belief ingrained in many of us. Despite an appreciation for certain art styles, such as graffiti, I’ve always held that viewpoint without much introspection. 

Is vandalism truly unnecessary? 

I was working in the library with friends one day when I noticed a vandalized wall. The wall, which I glanced at whenever I felt stuck on the mathematical equation I was working on, was covered with an array of words and phrases, mostly positive, though some were completely random.

One phrase stood out: “I am my dad.” Intrigued, I set my laptop aside and traced the words with my finger, hoping a bit of the message might rub off. 

It didn't. 

The phrase was firmly inscribed, steadfast, and immovable. As had become typical behavior, I momentarily abandoned my work to read a few more of the wall’s messages.

My eyes wandered from left to right, fluttering with fatigue (I guess the tiredness of an afternoon was hitting me), until I stumbled upon a series of questions that resonated with me given some recent occurrences that had happened in my life: “What (I think this was meant to be ‘why’) does it hurt? Why is it hard?” And the most poignant: “What is love?"