“The following quote by Catherine M. Wallace is my add on to Osyth’s Post.” i’mgoing.home
At seventeen, in keeping I imagine, with most seventeens I could not wait to be eighteen and proclaim myself adult. Adult enough to do all the things thus far forbidden even if I was really too timid or scared or plain perplexed to really want to try them. Nothing would be out of my reach, I would emerge from ugly duck-dom as the rightful swan and I would, clearly discover all the things that the adults before me had failed to find. I would invent love and sex and I would invent drinking and I would travel to far flung exotic places and I would absorb by osmosis more wisdom than any adult before me – dullards all – could ever hope to. At seventeen.
At seventeen I bought a book which seemed to wink at me even though it’s cover was pummelled and punished, tired and tawdry in the…
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