The biggest lie adults tell is everything’s going to be fine. They only say this when everything is obviously not going to be fine. They reserve it for wars, bankruptcy, deaths, and stuff like that.
I know, deep down in my bones, that I messed up. I hurt them today. It’s going to take a long time to win their trust back. And somehow I don’t even care about the fact that I will never, ever be allowed out of the house again. What bothers me is the ache of knowing that I’ve failed the people who love me most.
I look down, unsure what I’m supposed to do. He’s standing about four feet from me. Can he hear my heart slamming around in my chest? Does he see me? Should I say something? I bite my lip and examine my shoes. Safer not to say anything. It’s hard to hate yourself for saying something stupid if you don’t say anything at all.
I know it’s stupid, and I know I never had a chance with him anyway, and I know he doesn’t even know who I am, but for some reason it still feels like I’ve been punched in the gut.
It doesn’t matter where you are. That’s not the point of this assignment. The point is that it’s always important to recognize the big moments in your life and share them with others.
I look back at my paper. Is it possible that X is zero? That always seems to be what happens when something doesn’t make sense. It’s like this joke the universe has – it’s this little squiggle that means nothing (literally), and it makes everything around it meaningless too. I resist the temptation to make another comparison to my life and move on to the second problem. Maybe this one’s easier.