You don't need anyone telling you how to feel. You just got caught in a downpour, even though a break in the clouds was clearly visible out toward the beach, and you don't need someone to say 'this too shall pass.' That is a given, and a cliché, and you've already changed into your gym shoes. It's a day for practical solutions and moving on, for dusting off that person you were at fifteen, still tender at the slightest criticism, but stubborn, stupidly idealistic, and quick to laugh. Nothing seemed too grandiose, except maybe being President, and who'd really want that job? But also, you'd never been kissed, and you didn't know what death was, or how awful and amazing freedom could be once you had a car and a job and some time to yourself. You could drop everything right now and drive to Reno, you know, consequences be damned. The Truckee River is roaring, we hear. You can at least plan dinner. Something simple, but rich and filling. You can still do a few of the things you set out to do. It's not too late, and look, the clouds are already breaking.