I was a know it all. I thought I was three meters tall and bullet proof. I got into fistfights over stupid things. And some real important ones. I was stubborn as the sky is wide. I never did know when to quit. I lived my life at full throttle, never slowing down for a breath I didn’t need. I fell for sky-blue eyes under small town lights. I fell for deep brown eyes under dark woods canopies. And God Almighty, those green eyes were something to behold. I never had everything I exactly wanted, but that’s part of what was so beautiful. Life was good. Life was great. And I was…fantastic. Because I had a name to live up to. A name I’d earned, and one I very much was not going to let go to waste. I was Jack. Still am, I suppose, but I’ll always remember the Jack I was when I was fifteen going on eighteen. When I was eighteen going on thirty. When everything was right in the world.