We’re Not Delinquents



After a windy evening drinking bubble tea and walking by the Hudson River, my friends and I returned to our town.   Contrary to the usual “Let’s go home,” or “Let’s all go to someone’s house,” or “Let’s go to the park,” my friend stopped the car in a parking lot, near a friend’s house.  And as we all just sat there in the dark, I felt satisfied.  Music playing in the background.  People doing their own thing.

It’s the type of night activity I would unjustly associate with “bad people.”  Typical “good kids” are perceived to be out of the streets by 10:30 p.m., but we weren’t.  I felt so rebellious for a second until I realized, “This isn’t bad.  It’s relaxing.  Nothing wrong with this at all.”

I’m almost 18.  I’m so naïve.


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