-do you remember Julie? my roomate asked. deja vu jealousy filled my mouth. she had been younger than me, kept her virginity past freshman year, chastity belted bitch who stole my boy. her utter goodness making her a hot commodity back in college, when in my eyes love meant he snuck into my room at night to meet me in my bed. -she's dead, cancer. she continued. the facts ripped my stomach open, the immortal juices of the young rushed out tearing me mortal, making me adult and guilty. because cancer was only real for old people who'd smoked all their lives. because now she would always be younger than me, as if she could have caught up.