I can trace a handful of defining moments back to my days in high school. Maybe it shouldn’t come as surprising, being that mixing pot of awkwardness, doubt, and a pinch of disorientation to taste. Writing, for fun, was one of them.
“May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you’re wonderful, and don’t forget to make some art — write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself.”