I feel as though I've lost a large part of my youth this summer. It all began in June with the news of Michael's death, and although I was always too young to ever be a real fan, I found myself suddenly glued to the television and youtube, already nostalgic for our fallen star. I knew that part of my youth, our generation, had disappeared with the final wave of that one sparkling glove.
And then news of Mister Hughes' death arrived two weeks ago. Although I haven't felt the need to watch The Breakfast Club since high school, I still instantly felt the urge to listen to Simple Minds on repeat and wonder what'll happen now that he's gone. I remember seeing Sixteen Candles for the first time when I was thirteen and pressing pauserewind on that final scene so many times that the VHS tape is now forever marked by my younger self. Awkward in bangs that were too thick and glasses that were too big, Samantha gave me hope that in three years, things would be different. Things would be better. That I would find my own Jake Ryan. And although my Jake ended up taking the form of a Justin, to this day, I still can't look away from a boy dressed in dark hair and red plaid because he might just be the Jake to my Samantha and then of course I would finally get my happily ever after in the end, right?