Ah yes, as a 20 year old kid who hates her memories of her teenage years...
We make NO sense.
We will not make ANY sense until we are 18. And even then, it's up to debate.
Our hair can ruin a day. Tell us we are beautiful, you're lying.
Mommy is the devil. Daddy is a saint. Two minutes later, the roles will be reversed. And again the next morning. And it ALL depends on the wind, the hair, the friends...
Off to get that latte, finally.
Deet: Shira, I Love You!