The mature response to accidentally getting the truck stuck in the driveway: An apology, then a laugh.
Instead, I wasn't even out of our neighborhood before my eyes were all hot. Soon stupid, frustrated tears were building up.
I don't think I've cried so hard since reading The Fault in Our Stars.
I turned up the radio as loud as it could possibly go. I didn't sing along; I screamed along while crying. It sounded horrible, but that was the point anyway. The stuck truck didn't really matter, but it still felt good - just to cry about stress and school and life and having to make decisions and just doing stupid stuff. It felt nice to see the world a little more blurry and hear my own off-tune, cracked voice breaking through the blasting noise. I almost enjoyed looked in the rear view mirror and seeing my own freaky red eyes staring back. I enjoyed being immature and stupid and melodramatic.
Fact: Sometimes, I'm not a big kid.
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