May-December Abuse

My greatest misfortune has been that I couldn't be anything but seventeen in 2016. Now, I know that no amount of money or doing would address that, but perhaps, with some money, I could set myself to the task of addressing everything that being that age in that year caused.

It would take a while, holding as weak a passport as I do, but I want to get myself to New York City. It would be a long journey, and one, I imagine, punctuated by constant nightmares of what he had done to me, and how I would've known better if I'd just been a little older. I'd take a bus from there to wherever in the middle of nowhere he was living. Then I'd get to his house, ring the bell, and spit in his face when he opened the door.

I cannot imagine the rest of the trip being anything less than fantastic.

And with the story on the page and the money left over afterwards, I'll finally get some therapy.