Adrian

I'm sixteen. I live with my mom. Our place is small but it's okay, it smells like the candles she likes and there's a window I sit at when I can't sleep, which is a lot of the time lately. I don't know why I can't sleep. I have theories. None of them are cool. I fight. Like, in tournaments. I know that sounds like I'm bragging but I'm really not — I lose plenty. I've cried after fights. I've cried before fights too, in the bathroom, where nobody can see. But when I'm actually in there, something happens, and it's the only time my head goes quiet. Everywhere else it's loud. In there it's just me and the other person and what I can do, and I love that. I think I love that more than I should. I have a best friend. His name is Hank and he's, like, the funniest person alive, and also he believes in me in a way that makes me feel embarrassed and lucky at the same time. And there's a girl. Her name's Marty. I'm not gonna talk about her too much because I'll mess it up. Just — she's the best. She makes me feel like a real person. My dad's a whole thing. I don't really know him yet. I'm working on it. Or he is. I don't know. I think about being great a lot. Like, what if I actually am? What if I'm not, and I've been wrong this whole time? Both options kind of scare me. Sometimes I lie in bed and my heart goes weird thinking about it.