Time to write!
Begin with "I wish someone told me..."
I wish someone told me that eating tar was bad for you.
The end. Bahahahaha
Jk. But for real now.
I wish someone told me that boys were bad news. Like really bad news. Like really really bad news. Well, maybe not all boys. Maybe not even boys in general. Maybe just boys named Loren, especially if that particular Loren has an excellent nose and perfect eyebrows. Seriously. Perfect. They're the right amount of thickness to look manly without looking Groucho Marx-esque and they're shaped in such a way that they're pretty without being feminine. They are truly two beautiful twin marks of sublimity which grace his face.
But they're bad news. And I wish someone had told me that. Because if I'd known that earlier, I could've saved myself this whole big mess. Not like a mess when your mom calls upstairs and tells you to clean your room because "it's a mess" but really all that's even on the floor is two days worth of clothes and your backpack and maybe some folders and pens. No, the kind of mess like you had a giant flour fight, followed by a run through the sprinklers and then laid down on the kitchen floor. A real mess. The kind it takes forever to clean up, even though it was kind of fun to make. Maybe even really fun to make.
But just because making the mess was fun, that doesn't always mean that it was worth it. Sometimes the mess is just too...well, messy.
And I wish someone had told me that.
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