Dear Teenage Self,

That guy you're crazy about,
Will ask you out
On a date
In about ten years, so don't fret
You'll get there yet.
But fate is cruel
On that day,
That feeling will have gone away.

My mom believed that you make your own luck. Over the stove she had hung these old, maroon painted letters that spell out, “MANIFEST.” The idea being if you thought and dreamed about the way you wanted your life to be -- if you just envisioned it long enough, it would come into being.
But as hard as I had manifested Astrid Heyman with her hand in mine, her blue eyes gazing into mine, her lips whispering something wild and funny and outrageous in my ear, she had remained totally unaware of my existence. Truly, to even dream of dreaming about Astrid, for a guy like me, in my relatively low position on the social ladder of Cheyenne Mountain High, was idiotic. And with her a senior and me a junior? Forget it.
Astrid was just lit up with beauty: shining blonde ringlets, June sky blue eyes, slightly furrowed brow, always biting back a smile, champion diver on the swim team. Olympic level.
Hell, Astrid was Olympic level in every possible way.

Teenage crush is like flu. If you find a remedy for it, it lasts for a couple of days. If you don't, it still lasts for a couple of days.

It reveals how well you value someone - the way you handle their belongings.

There is never enough time to enjoy what you love.

Some read to learn, some to laugh, and some to live.