There are so many things that I am so excited about.
I know what I want my future to look like. Because I am so eager to move onto my future. Internally, I am so conflicted about how I feel. I have a few months left to fuck around before my life really starts to ‘count’.
Throughout all the change in my life as I grow up, one thing stays the same: the desire to go back to how it was when I was a kid. I want ‘em back, the minds we had, how all the thoughts, moved ‘round our heads. I got to college twenty-five minutes away from my house - I would not really be “leaving” much behind. “I thought she was excited to go?” I just barely make out between my gasps for air. “I’m scared, I’m scared!” I kept repeatedly forcing out between sobs to my mom and aunt who stood in front of me confused. I bawled my eyes out before I even left my house. Even as a 12 year old, who was still practically living in their childhood.įlash forward a few years, six to be exact, and move-in day of college was not dry-eyed either. Sure birthdays were fun and all, but the thought of straying further and further from my childhood with each passing day was petrifying to me. As a kid I dreaded growing up way more than I should have. Who does that? Someone who gets a heart-wrenching feeling when thinking of the future and growing up, leaving her family and the only home she has ever known, that’s who. I cried myself to sleep the night before my twelfth birthday. This dream isn’t feeling sweet, we’re reeling through the midnight street, and I’ve never felt more alone, it feels so scary getting old. I’m pulled back to earth again by the sound of his teenage stomps going down the stairs, probably going to the bathroom down there. Living forever how we are now, without a worry about the future. Sometimes I wanna freeze time and stop us all in our tracks. One of the things that pains me most about growing is seeing the people around me grow too. Now I’m staring at my brother - except ten years in the past.
RIBS LORDE REPEAT CRACK
“I’m about to shower!” I tell him through the crack of the door. I snap back into reality as a tear runs down my cheek to the sound of my brother pounding on the door that doesn’t even shut all the way. I see our last summer together before we part ways for the first time in years, each starting our own journeys.
RIBS LORDE REPEAT FULL
I see the drive home that night with my friends, windows down and the early summer breeze filling the car as we listen to an odd but tasteful combination of Tyler, the Creator and One Direction on full volume. I see the red and white graduation caps of my high school scattered across the football field as I hug my mom and dad after the ceremony, diploma in hand. I see that day in my head as I stare into my own soul through the mirror. I was crying because I was not ready to leave that part of my life behind.I just wasn’t ready to let go. I wasn’t crying because I was sad about leaving - I couldn’t give a crap about the school or 97% of the people I had just walked across the stage with. That’s why I have cried at every graduation I’ve had. Growing up is something that has always terrified me. Whatever it is, it’s a familiar feeling, one that I am no stranger to.
I am overwhelmed with a very specific emotion, unsure of whether it’s a feeling of nostalgia, or fear of the future. Maybe I just wrote the song? It sure feels like it. It sounds like I am listening to myself sing the words on the track - except I don’t sound nearly so good. And the experience of listening to it has remained unmatched. Music is powerful, but rarely does a song ever speak to me the way this one does. Some people do their deepest thinking in the shower, I do mine when I’m staring at myself in the mirror, both hands firmly planted on the cold, white countertop, leaning forward on my tippy toes. I’m not getting into the shower for a while. Her smokey voice plays through my iPhone 8 speakers and fills the bathroom as I enter the existential crisis about my life, as I reach to turn off the shower knob. The drink you spilt all over me, Lover’s Spit left on repeat, mom and dad let me stay home, it drives you crazy getting old. Of course, it’s everyone's favorite 2014 tumblr era song. Whatever you wanna call what I’m going through. I am staring at myself in the mirror as it fogs up with steam from the ungodly hot water spewing out of the shower head about three feet away from me. It usually happens before I get in the shower. And I call it an event because it’s nothing less than that. It is an event that happens at least once a month.
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