All it took was that one ride home in your van to show me how different things have become between us. I guess it’s a good thing. I don’t know.
I remember when twenty seemed so old. Most of my close friends are going to be twenty in the next two months, if they aren’t already. It’s all very strange to me, in a way that turning ten or sixteen or eighteen isn’t at all. Everything’s changing so fast it sometimes makes me wonder how I missed it.
I’m sorry you feel like we need to make up for lost time and maybe that I’m not what I promised to be, but maybe I like myself better this way. If I can’t respect my choices then what’s the point of choosing in the first place? Might as well free-wheel into walls. (Irony.)
