I wasn't ever really a teenager. I didn't date. Never fell in love. (still haven't) Found out 50 years to late that I'm probably gay. I say probably because I've never had gay sex, and I'm scared shitless about that. there's a whole set of packed baggage there.

I started watching this series tonight, and my heart aches for these kids. And for the teenager I never was.

In some ways, it hurts. I catch glimpses of what I missed. reading between the lines I see both the pain and the joy of growing up and changing, and discovering new ways to connect.

And I feel rage. Why could my parents not see? Well that question is easy. They were too wrapped up in their own lives. What should they have done? That is less clear. I didn't know if I was gay, or straight. The fucking catholic church finished the job of teaching that sex was shameful. (they no longer get an upper case "C" for a proper noun. Very much an improper noun.) Parents should have done something. But if I cannot say what after 50 some years, how can I expect them to know then, with incomplete knowledge, and the prejudice inflicted on them by there parents.

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And so tonight I mourn for the boy that never was.

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But I also can rejoice that I can mourn. So much of my life has just been empty of much emotion. Even the sad emotions are better than emptiness.