“I feel a hundred and fifty. And also maybe five. An elderly toddler. The world’s oldest idiot. I know too much and nothing at all.” He doesn’t laugh at my joke but tilts his head to the side and looks at me. Quietly he whispers, “You’re allowed to just be yourself sometimes.” His gaze is so intense. I break it like a coward and shake the thoughts girls aren’t allowed to have out of my head. “It would be easier if I knew who ‘myself’ was supposed to be.”
