I think about the longings of young adult life, of the dark
passageways and of the ties teenagers form –loose knots that are imperiled by
the faintest of breezes. I remember my own yearning to be someone else, a part
of something else, to be like a particular idol. Maybe her youth will be a
gentler passage than mine. Where is it written that our early years are marred
by rivalry and exclusion and a raw hunger for a different set of physical
traits?
Is it time to let go? And if so, can I still hold on?
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