But that’s no fun. I’m not sure if I’m even supposed to feel angsty. Or happy. Or sad. Or ANYTHING (this is another if you know, you know things). I do wish that being sixteen and almost a half came with instructions. Or at least a warning label.
“Warning: Accepting this birthday will result in more sleep deprivation, stress, and responsibility than you’ve had in times past. Approach with caution.”
But on the up side, you DO get this lovely gift of mixed feelings and emotions. You never know what you’ll end up with next! (Though really, the bag is half sadness and self-loathing. Icky, gray-and-black splotched jellybeans that taste like dryer lint and pimento.)
But the other half of the bag is actually pretty great. Lots of nice, happy bright coloured jellybeans, things like pineapple and lime. Good moods, caring friends, that whole spiel. But again, here come the dryer-lint jellybeans of teenage angst covered in a tasty pineapple coloured coating. Because if it looks like pineapple, it must be…
Right?
(Uh, yeah. BOUT that not being angsty. Oh well. Get out of my van. I’m going to bed.)