I was asked today how old I was; my reply, as it often is, was “17”. I do, on good days, feel 17. . . a lot of the time. I’ve even been accused of acting 17 at times, but I’m good with that. I liked 17. In many ways, 17 was the summer of my life (and I’ve had a lot of good summers since.) You’ve got a lot to learn at age 17, and I am still learning. You have no regrets at 17, and I am still dreaming. I am 17, and I’m sticking to it.
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