Bokelskere.no

"I'm like. Like. I'm like a grenade, mom. I'm a grenade and at some point I'm going to blow up and I would like to minimize the
casualties, okay?"

My dad tilted his head a little to the side, like a scolded puppy.
"I'm a grenade," I said again. "I just want to stay away from people and read books and think and be with you guys because there's nothing I can do about hurting you; you're too invested, so just please let me do that, okay? I'm not depressed. I don't need to get out more. And I can't be a regular teenager, because I'm a grenade."