You roll your eyes at the boys who zip down the cliff on their snowboards, shirtless in the cold.
For a second you wish that you were that fearless but then again safety is underrated when you're young and invincibility is just a flimsy facade because too many people your age are already gone.
You watch the minutes walk out the door, life on a line in between sips of red wine and incoherent comments to your friend, the wall.
You read the sort of books your grandfather read in high school without the slightest sense of irony and there are days that usually aren't Monday where you fall a little in love with humanity at large.
When you dig your hands deep into your coat pockets and come up with a tissue with rust colored blood stains folded carefully inside and remember the person who handed it to you then sat next to you in the snow on that cold night when you needed a friend the most because stars seemed reachable and your scars stuck out in bold relief.
The little comic strips stuck in economics textbooks are helplessly dry as the smiles in the school hallways are wry and you hope to God that you'll be home soon.