Teens
Memories of those years are hazy, at best. A chaotic slideshow of wanton debauchery, ragged at the edges. Police lights, smoky rooms, girls who knew too much. How I survived is still a mystery.
My poor son, I see you on the cusp of those wild years. The world has changed; everything is recorded. A foul word, a bad decision, they can follow you forever now.
The advice I offer, I can see that it doesn’t land. The vacant gaze betrays you. I’m an old man. What do I know? Your naiveté frightens me.
I wish I could lock you inside. I can keep you safe here. But I know you have to live. You have to fall, alone. This is a father’s burden.