As part of my research for my story, I read over some of my high school journals. I kept a daily (and I mean EVERY DAY) journal writing about the vicissitudes of growing up. I was doing ok, reliving my teenage-hell until I came to a part where I wondered, really wondered if someone would ever love, when I wondered what he was doing. I cried. I really cried, real tears. I hurt for that poor, lost 16 year-old who didn't have a clue about how make friends with guys. I stewed over this boy I liked, every page mentioned something whether he said hi or what his reaction was to what I said, notes I wrote to him. He ended up liking some tall blond girl who was 1) Popular 2) practically perfect 3) pretty 4) kind (I think even my brother had a crush on her). The guy was probably just as socially retarded as I was and thankfully we're not in contact anymore. I was a nerd in high school. (I didn't have my first real boyfriend until college, I was such a social retard). I never got asked to Prom. Am I still bitter about that? No, I went to my cousin's wedding. But there's just something about having a group of friends that I hung out with and none of them asked me. As I reread these painful memories, I feel sorry for that lost little girl. I wish I could go back and tell her, hey, life just gets better and better. There is a guy out there for you and he's perfect for you. You'll have kids and do things you never thought you could do. Chin up, don't worry. Everything will be all right.