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All Is Lost In Love and War This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

By Molly L., Georgetown, MA

As a Southern boy, I know all about warmth, both physical and emotional. My dad died before I was born, but my mom always had plenty of pictures of him around, and she’d talk about him all the time. She’d constantly tell me that you only get one life, one love, and one chance to lead, so don’t take it for granted. I asked her if Dad was her one love, and she said he was her whole life, and the only one she would have as my dad, whether he was gone or not. At the time I accepted this and went ­outside, the warm summer air seeping into my skin like a hug from the man himself. Now, however, I’m cold, I’m wet, I’m hungry, I’m exhausted, my mother died, and though I don’t know where I am, I know it’s some small, forgotten piece of Europe.

Who would live here? Milo tells me to keep an open mind: all the nothing around us is made by men, and it’s up to men to fix it.

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