Once upon a time I was a sixteen-year-old kid. I had dreams then, huge ones. I was going to be a famous writer who lived in London, attending all the best parties and dancing til dawn. David Bowie would be on speed dial because we'd be the best of friends. Nobody would know that in high school I had been dubbed the Dateless Wonder, and they'd be too distracted to care because I was one of those Roman Candle People that Jack Kerouac had been talking about. I'd be illuminating every dark sky, leaving the audience gasping at the realization that I couldn't be stopped. After all, I knew everything at that age, and there was no way I could ever be wrong.