15 years old, and the life of the party. A smile like the skin, and skin that burns so brightly you can’t look away.
Bragging about going out drinking.
You say you’ve quit smoking weed, but you offer me a joint.
Discovering sex, and the frail power that gives you.
You talk about sleeping with men 2 and a half times your age.
Fights with your mother.
Partying until dawn.

We are so different but you remind me of me when I was a tearaway teen. You think now that your friends are your family, and that they would be by your side forever. You’ve never tasted that  disappointment.

Fights with your mother. I’m 27, 12 years older than you, and I have just watched my mother die. What I wouldn’t give for one more blazing row with her. Cherish every moment.

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