in the year of our lord, twenty-eleven.
no:
Anxiety abounding, moving out, tequila, crying in public, paying bills. Botched phone interviews. The formalities of growing up and the side effects of taking chances. Shady co-workers, silence. Saying farewell to Hogwarts. Technology’s constant need to malfunction at only the most inconvenient times, hundreds of hours wasted watching Netflix, and a rise in apathy, goddamn.
yes:
Moving to and exploring a new city. San Francisco in January. New Orleans and Birmingham in May. Tour vans and friends from the road and Dancakes the morning after. Tom’s Diner on Sundays, grocery shopping at midnight. Kissing. Anything Harry Potter related. Skinned knees in the southern heat, bike rides and that single perfect firefly. My mom’s wedding, sneaking into (and out of) bars, long drives, long walks, all of the comings and goings. Learning to be braver, and taking chances for people I care about. Spoken word, tattoos, bad ideas and finally putting together that ‘zine that I’d meant to for so long. Ticket stubs and photographs, friendships I’m thankful to have and friends I’m grateful to know—growing, learning, everyone moving in different directions but still staying tight knit. Reunions, reintroductions, and the pros, by far, always outweighing the cons.
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