It is at 23 that you realize that, even though you were generally unhappy and incredibly uncomfortable during high school, and even though the people who treated you badly did so without question, you were also quite inexcusably a bitch during those four years. But also, it’s a high school memory, and most bad things from high school are at once meaningless and excusable but also totally and permanently scarring. Finally, this realization is an indication that high school truly never ends, by virtue of the fact that angst lives forever.
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yeah, once in lit mag my freshman year, you called me and elizabeth the peanut gallery. we were not pleased. good thing i love you now.
How mean! Do you have more context for that? Was that the year I was editor? I may have been drunk with power.
yeah, you were editor and asked us for our opinions since we were quiet freshmen. haha elizabeth was more offended than i was.