On what it’s like to be between the ages of 13 and 17:
I remember liking a new boy, and thinking he liked me too, and then he didn’t, and I decided that this was better, because now I could listen to Heart and Carole King records and light candles and gaze out my window and feel sorry for myself.
I remember my 16th birthday, dancing to my favorite songs with my new friends under the pink balloons and silver stars that clouded our dining room, eating waffles made of cake batter, and then taking a communal clothed bath at Claire’s (my friend Claire’s house, not Claire’s the store). We fell asleep in a pile and woke up dreading the walk home because even though it was a beautiful spring day, it meant the night was over.
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