If I Could Sit With My Seventeen-Year-Old Self
The young man beside me doesn't know who I am. He's seventeen. Restless. Confused. Searching for something he can't put into words. I remember him well. Because he was me.
The young man beside me doesn't know who I am. He's seventeen. Restless. Confused. Trying to act tougher than he feels. Searching for something he can't put int…