The strikethrough text seemed gimmicky and the writing seemed trite and the photographs seemed random. But maybe that's because I'm no longer a melodramatic angsty teenager? Maybe teenage "me" should read this... 
 A Few Star Moments 
 You see a photograph and you try to make yourself be there. But you can't. Even if you were there. You can't. 
 I could feel him gluing the calmness together. 
 You know one me. Just like I know one you. But you can't know every me, Evan. And I can't know every you.