Being that I almost have a grown up person house of my own, it is finally time for me to stop storing things at my parent’s house like a college freshman.  My Mom most recently shipped me my old  jewelry box full of cross necklaces and broken promise rings and this bracelet that I made in high school or perhaps middle school, which I think sums up my entire existence:

I think I thought it was ironic, to have someone Look at my Bracelet and see the word Look? (This bracelet of course brought to you by the budding playwright who, around the same time, wrote a play called Happen in which nothing Happens.) Or maybe, if we go deeper, I just wanted to be looked at, then horrified at the idea that I was being looked at, but then devastated if no one was looking.  Is this the quintessential teenage person experience, or is this perhaps just THE BEING A PERSON EXPERIENCE?