Looking back, again. It's that time of year, of course.
This time around, I'm amazed at the degree to which these things mattered, back then. How I would write out of ecstasy or wretchedness. How it was all life and death, and how I miss that feeling, now. If I were to go back in time, I would give my 17-year-old self the advice that feeling
(
Read more... )