He didn't say, "I feel it too," and though she denied it, deep down she wanted it so bad. And although she prepared for the worst, although I prepared her completely for what came, there is no such thing as prepared. So we sat in her car at 12:15am and spoke of the feelings, and she cried, and I listened.
There's part of being a teenager that is nothing more than an eternal pessimism. Every heartache or break is the pain of the world ending, the heavens crashing upon our shoulders. A part of the hurting teenager will stay with us forever and serve as our defense. We will fear vulnerability because we will remember. That part becomes our guard.
And we grow up.
LL
For the life of me I have no idea who "she" is. Maybe my sis? Regardless, I must say, I was much smarter as a teenager than I can ever hope to be again.
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