Megainfantiloides

Angela: And then he just pulled down his pants, you know, like say hello to Mr. Happy.

Teenage girl #1: Gross.

Angela: It wasn't gross. It was kind of cool.

Teenage girl #2: So did you do it with him?

Angela: Of course I did! He's a really well-known photographer. He shoots for Elle on like, a regular basis. It would've been so majorly stupid of me to turn him down.

Teenage girl #1: You are a total prostitute.

Angela: Hey, that's how things really are. You just don't know cause you're this pampered little suburban chick.

Teenage girl #1: So are you! You've only been in Seventeen once, and you looked fat, so stop acting like you're goddamn Christy Turlington! [walks away]

Angela: Cunt! I am so sick of people taking their insecurities out on me.

Supongo que me acuerdo porque es la noche de Reyes, y pienso que es la típica chorrada megainfantiloide que le gustaría. Regalos grandes en suntuosos envoltorios de los chinos, todos a su alrededor fingiendo que tiene diez años pero que puede emborracharse y fumar.

Por la tarde te planteas que tienes 15, y fumas y te emborrachas y críticas al mundo como si tuvieras toda la vida por delante, con un futuro brillante y bohemio. Ahí estábamos.

Pero crecimos.

En el mundo real Peter es un huérfano caprichoso, tirano y solo. Y triste.