I'm petrified. I don't want to look at you the wrong way.
I'm scared because I can't avoid this. You can't see it coming but I can.
When you're thirty, and married, and maybe you have a child or two.
And you think back to me, the first girl that ever counted for you, the girl you thought might be the one.
And you cringe.
The aspiring actress. The sometimes drunken, always depressed mess. An incredibly self-absorbed, shallow, foolish girl.
And you wonder what happened, or maybe you'll know. And you won't be as open-minded as you are now, and you'll know what an idiot I am. For the drugs and the self-destruction.
Ugh. What a cliche.