a near-unbearably emo composition i wrote in 2020, the night before I turned 22.
21 landed like a dust storm. no
warning, hazy, blew through town. it
left dirt in the cracks between my teeth. i
sneezed for a week.
i expected lots of champagne problems
this year. graduation goodbyes. lots of
sleeping under stars and pedaling up
mountains. moving to a new city and
falling in love with its heartbeat. discovery,
reinvention, blooming, open, open
opening up. lots of things.
replayed memories at night feels strange.
i’m watching them through a fog. i can’t
believe they happened to me. everyone
is somewhere good. and i am here. and
here is nice, really. i can’t tell if i’m
miserable or thriving. i can’t tell if i’m
depressed or content. i don’t know how to
feel energized unless i’m working. all
my friends are in love, in love, falling in
love. i haven’t been touched for years. i
am stone girl. i am cactus girl. i am vapor
girl. see me, see right through me, blow
me away like that dust storm.
21 swirled down the drain and left soap
bubbles around the edges. i’m still young
but i’m getting older. no way to deny it
now. what am i doing? what am i doing?
what have i been doing? i miss it all, the
crumbling apartments and late nights and
long talks and bright eyes.
tomorrow is 22. i remember playing “17”
by youth lagoon before i turned 18 and
feeling sad i wouldn’t be living it anymore.
i remember turning 18 in hawaii. 19 was
for kenna’s lake house and chris battey’s
party. 20 was for havana. 21 was for
china. 22 is coming. 22 is here.