Bryan left the web world for art boot camp on Saturday.
“You don’t understand,” he told me. “They broke up. The internet is over.”
I can already tell it’s going to be a long summer.
I spent the summer after my freshman year of high school here, now it’s the summer before my senior year of college. When I write the screenplay version of my life I need to be sure to use them as bookends. Mr. K. would be proud.
I keep imagining I’ll see the little 15-year-old me eating a slice of pizza at Tressider one afternoon, and we’ll sit down and chat.
“I’m you, but in six years.”
“You mean I never get any taller? Shit.”
I know what little Adam would ask me.
And I know exactly what I’d tell him.
I don’t think it would change anything.
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