I recently finished a really great book written for the young adult audience. It was about two teenage boys whose lives end up intersecting because they share the same name. It was fantastic and I kept pausing in my reading to write down passages that I loved. (That's kind of my thing; I have a notebook or post-it pad nearby to write down parts from books. This particular book was chock full of all kinds of note-worthy writings.) There were just these sentences or whole paragraphs that summed up exactly how I feel, like, right now, my exact, precise, heretofore indescribable emotions and inner feelings in the form of eloquent phrases on several pages of this lovely novel. And in the midst of my readings, it hit me:
I have the exact emotional maturity of a 16-year-old boy.
Look out, humans. The things, they are about to become from fantasy to what is real.
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