I cried for a day when I was 17. Sitting on a swing at a
   playground late at night at the childhood I was leaving behind
   and the adulthood looming before me, I went home I wrote a note
   to my future self, telling him never to forget this feeling,
   never forget the childhood.

   Well, I didn't.

   What would I tell my 17 year old self?

   I'd tell him exactly what I told myself that day after I wiped
   away the tears and wrote that letter (which I opened last year
   at 42, the birthdate I set for it):

   "Just roll with it like you always do. Play along and smile -
   they mean well - and listen of course, but don't let them get in
   your head like this again."

   I roll with it. I play along and smile. I listen. And I don't
   let them get into my head. I define me.