The Interior Of A Teenager’s Mind Is

I'm A Bit Of A Tech Geek Myself.

I Don't Ever Write With A Particular Audience In Mind. I Just Write Books That Please Me.

But Sometimes You Can't Figure Everything Out Because You Can't Ever Really Understand Other People. You Can't Understand Why They Do What They Do. You Just Have To Accept A Little Mystery, Ben. People Are Mysterious, The World Is Mysterious. You Can't Know Everything. You're Not Supposed To. This Isn't A History Book. It's Just The World. It's A Messy Place.

At Some Point As Adults We Cease To Be Our Parents' Children And We Become Our Children's Parents Instead.

The Rest-the Vast Majority, Tens Of Thousands Of Days-are Unremarkable, Repetitive, Even Monotonous. We Glide Through Them Then Instantly Forget Them. We Tend Not To Think About This Arithmetic When We Look Back On Our Lives. We Remember The Handful Of Big Days And Throw Away The Rest. We Organize Our Long, Shapeless Lives Into Tidy Little Stories...but Our Lives Are Mostly Made Up Of Junk, Of Ordinary, Forgettable Days, And 'the End' Is Never The End.