high school memories

"I love my daughter and should never belittle her sensibilities, even if I don't always relate to them."
As a teenager I felt like that solid, red pimple with no give, no whitehead ripe for a satisfying squeeze. The pain on the outside reflecting the tense churning and discomfort underneath. A differentness I knew would keep me permanently locked out of their circle, disconnected from everyone else who seemed so in tune with one another. They had best friends. I never did.
Come to find out, this spring marks the 40th year since I graduated from high school. Who knew? I certainly didn't until I received a friendly note from the reunion committee. So I joined their Facebook page and started looking around.
You are 15. Stop wishing you were older. Stop trying to talk, walk and mimic the lame adults. They have nothing on you.