Life After My So Called Life I see it for the first time on television. I am very young, but not young enough to not notice. A television program about teenagers growing up in Pittsburgh. Nothing compares to the idea of a possibility. Not yet a teenager, I am growing up in Pittsburgh as I watch a program about what it feels like to be a teenager growing up in Pittsburgh. Offers are made. Offers are made that are irrefusable and unforgettable. I eventually forget but I never refuse. I watch movies, read magazines, and I buy myself things. I prepare meals for myself and others. I organize my property and my schedule. I keep up with the necessary body maintenance. A silver anxiety remains in the backseat. Images surface, disappear and then continue along the surface of the river. The river water is brown and it is good water. Under the right conditions the water reflects the sunlight back at the sun. A car is parked on a hill with a steep downward slope. The car is pointed up the hill. The parking brake is on and the windows have been left open. Sitting straight up feels like leaning backwards. I know it’s time to go home. Summer is always over and I know it’s time to go home. A lemon that has fallen out of a grocery bag rolls around in the trunk of the car as I drive up and down hills. My mother and father love me more than I realize. I listen to the lemon. Driving again through the old neighborhood, there are still spots that are soft. There are ghosts. I learn to ride a bike. I accidentally injure my best friend’s little brother in the woods with a stick. I purposely injure myself to make it right. I live everywhere but here. I spit the moment my heart breaks. I leave the fan on but the cold air still feels cold when it comes through the open window in the morning. I take airplanes.