Things are supposed to make sense when you get older. Maybe it’s just because all these injustices become routine and lose their shock factor. Or perhaps we’re supposed to have perfected our ability to conceal emotion by then.

I’m a teenager: only partially covered by the shadow of adulthood. I’m still a youth; I still have much to learn, mistakes to make, things to figure out. So much remains that doesn’t make sense to me.

But when does this magical change occur? When life itself is overwhelming, can we simply wait inside until the day arrives that everything becomes clear? I don’t yet know anyone who possesses this knowledge; this ability to see the logic and fairness and sense of all the world’s impurities.

I’m a teenager: somewhere in-between the innocence of a child and the so-called enlightenment that comes with adulthood. I suppose my mistake count isn’t high enough yet. Maybe I’m closer to the “child” side on the spectrum of innocence.

I’ve grown, but not nearly enough.