30-day song challenge - day 2 - a song you like with a number in the title
23 - Jimmy Eat World
23 was five years ago for me. When I started writing this post, I thought fondly of being 23. I was getting into the swing of my master's degree. I'd been dating Justin for a year. I'd started learning to play D&D with Shivani's group. I thought, wow, 23 wasn't really that long ago, and I was certain I hadn't really changed since. Sure would nice to be 23 again, to be able to play D&D in person, not worry about all the projects I'm on at work, still be in contact with my peeps from undergrad.
Then I checked my blog archives and realized that - no, 2016 was actually a shitshow. My thesis made me go to nervous bits on a weekly basis and I hadn't a clue how I was supposed to learn Python or write an academic paper or anything, honestly. I'm pretty sure I was breaking down in the university washroom biweekly. Most of all, I was afraid - I was afraid of losing my friends that I'd had in undergrad. I was afraid that at things would change forever and that I'd never find people to share my life with again. I was afraid of dying alone in a cardboard box on Yonge Street.
The song 23 perfectly encapsulates that fear of losing friendships over time, and being afraid that you'd never be as happy as you were when you were young. But the proof is in the pudding blog entries. I'm happier than I was five years ago. I've made new friends along the way. I'm not dying alone in a cardboard box on Yonge Street.
So, the lyrics of 23 ring true for me. I won't always love what I'll never have. I won't always live in my regrets. Every time I felt sure that "no one else will know that part of me," whether when I was 13 and afraid of losing my friends from elementary school, or 18 and still crushing on the first girl I'd fallen for, or 23 and trying to open up in a new relationship, I was wrong.
All anyone can do is to be here and be ready.
This entry was originally posted at https://duinemerwen.dreamwidth.org/363592.html. Please comment there instead.
Click to view23 was five years ago for me. When I started writing this post, I thought fondly of being 23. I was getting into the swing of my master's degree. I'd been dating Justin for a year. I'd started learning to play D&D with Shivani's group. I thought, wow, 23 wasn't really that long ago, and I was certain I hadn't really changed since. Sure would nice to be 23 again, to be able to play D&D in person, not worry about all the projects I'm on at work, still be in contact with my peeps from undergrad.
Then I checked my blog archives and realized that - no, 2016 was actually a shitshow. My thesis made me go to nervous bits on a weekly basis and I hadn't a clue how I was supposed to learn Python or write an academic paper or anything, honestly. I'm pretty sure I was breaking down in the university washroom biweekly. Most of all, I was afraid - I was afraid of losing my friends that I'd had in undergrad. I was afraid that at things would change forever and that I'd never find people to share my life with again. I was afraid of dying alone in a cardboard box on Yonge Street.
The song 23 perfectly encapsulates that fear of losing friendships over time, and being afraid that you'd never be as happy as you were when you were young. But the proof is in the pudding blog entries. I'm happier than I was five years ago. I've made new friends along the way. I'm not dying alone in a cardboard box on Yonge Street.
So, the lyrics of 23 ring true for me. I won't always love what I'll never have. I won't always live in my regrets. Every time I felt sure that "no one else will know that part of me," whether when I was 13 and afraid of losing my friends from elementary school, or 18 and still crushing on the first girl I'd fallen for, or 23 and trying to open up in a new relationship, I was wrong.
All anyone can do is to be here and be ready.
This entry was originally posted at https://duinemerwen.dreamwidth.org/363592.html. Please comment there instead.