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The Hell With Growing Up (Other) by wilco
Time is like a cancer, burning away every thread of the children that once we were. We spend our entire lives trying to recapture the wonderful feeling of a misspent youth. Driving too fast, using copious amounts of drugs and having promiscuous sex with strangers. We attempt to force the idea that these things are wrong, and all the while trying to claim them for ourselves. And can this childish hedonism really be so bad? Perhaps when you consider the times. The only difference between the foolish acts of men and boys is the severity of the punishment rendered. The death of my youth has been slow and painful, and now that it's gone I can't help but have regrets.

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