5 Things They Don’t Teach you in Highschool:
1) You’re going to leave the house at 2AM, 16 with nothing in your pockets but 50 bucks and a bus ticket. It won’t feel real. You’re going to think you’re leaving, but you aren’t going anywhere.
2) Swallow your fucking pride and go back inside. Lock your bedroom door, put your hands over your ears, bring your knees to your chest and when you’re ready, let your walls disintegrate and the sadness flood in, because baby I promise you, you’ll feel better if you just let yourself drown. Even if it’s the third goddamn time that week.
3) He’s going to taste like Newports, Trident spearmint and desperation. You’re going to taste like Lime-a-Rita’s and anxiety. You will tell yourself you need this. But you don’t. I promise you. You don’t. You don’t.
4) You’re going to have girlfriends who fall for boys who treat them like absolute shit. Do not learn from them. If a boy calls you a bitch, spit in his face and leave.
5) Do it even if it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. Even if you’re still convinced that he was hiding galaxies beneath his skin. Because baby I promise you, he was the always dark night sky and you were always the full moon. No question bout’ it.
Your life is not an episode of Skins. Things will never look quite as good as they do in a faded, sun-drenched Polaroid; your days are not an editorial from Lula. Your life is not a Sofia Coppola movie, or a Chuck Palahniuk novel, or a Charles Bukowski poem. Grace Coddington isn’t your creative director. Bon Iver and Joy Division don’t play softly in the background at appropriate moments. Your hysterical teenage diary isn’t a work of art. Your room probably isn’t Selby material. Your life isn’t a Tumblr screencap. Every word that comes out of your mouth will not be beautiful and poignant, infinitely quotable. Your pain will not be pretty. Crying till you vomit is always shit. You cannot romanticize hurt. Or sadness. Or loneliness. You will have homework, and hangovers and bad hair days. The train being late won’t lead to any fateful encounters, it will make you late. Sometimes your work will suck. Sometimes you will suck. Far too often, everything will suck - and not in a Wes Anderson kind of way. And there is no divine consolation - only the knowledge that we will hopefully experience the full spectrum - and that sometimes, just sometimes, life will feel like a Coppola film.