I’m moving across town in a couple of days and I’ve been going through all my crap, boxing some stuff up and throwing other stuff away. I just found a treasure trove of old conversations from my senior year of high school and freshman year of college. They were mostly printed out emails and AIM conversations with friends and ex-girlfriends. They are embarrassing to read. Everything is of the utmost importance when you’re eighteen. You live for drama. Most of the conversations are either arguments over slights I can’t remember, or me dispensing advice like I know what the fuck I’m talking about. I can’t read these old conversations without realizing that I was a naïve little bitch. I don’t think that I could be friends with my eighteen-year-old self. Now I’m older, wiser, and slightly more mature. I’m still driving the same car around though. I held on to those old conversations for more than a decade. I finally put them in the recycling bin. I don’t need to hold onto the past anymore. It’s tomorrow or bust.
Critically Rated at 13/17
Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young
criticallyrated 