by adam mathes
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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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