I did horrible things when I was under 18, and the only thing that stops me from breaking apart under their weight is the notion that back then, my brain hadn’t completely developed, so what I did then doesn’t have to be a part of my adult self. don’t get me wrong, I don’t think I’m fully off the hook; I did real harm back then, and I could’ve caused even more if things had turned out differently. I admit that, and I’ve taken steps to investigate the consequences those actions could’ve had. still, selfishly, weakly, I cling to this idea that I ultimately get to leave it all behind and live on. after all, many nations have a system where juvenile offenders are punished less severely, so this difference is one that is recognized, isn’t it? that’s what I rely on as something that allows me to feel this way. god, I’m worthless.