Okay, I'm going somewhere with this, I promise:

The summer we were 24, my best friend and I declared it our "summer of infinite possibilities." We were still young enough to believe that anything could happen, that every night held within it a possibility to be something more, even when it was just a lot of aimless hanging out. None of the possibilities ever included anything really bad happening to us, even when we were in the midst of objectively foolish and potentially harmful situations.

The thing is, the infinite possibilities always come to an end, but the realization of that hits different for everyone. There's always that one moment where you look around and think "what the FUCK am I doing? I'm too fucking old for this?" and wonder how or if you can keep having these intense friendships—so inherent to youth—if one of you is growing up and one of you is still stuck in an extended adolescence.

When Alana was sitting on the curb (no spoilers, if you know, you know)—that felt exactly like that. The moment when you realize the summers of infinite possibilities are fucking over and you have to grow up. What a love letter this is to that incredibly nonlinear and messy process.