A Song for Days Like These Part III

Today I told myself I would dye my hair pink after the wedding. Told myself I’d let go. Told myself I’d sleep in. I wake up at seven. I go to bed at eleven. I eat three meals a day. I remember birthdays and I have a savings account and I go to the dentist every six months. I am thriving for a someone who spent their teenage years in the psych ward and rehab and couldn’t get a grip.

I feel so managed. I feel so structured. I have a fear that letting go of my new, type-A adult life will lead to a mental health spiral, a deterioration. Can’t let myself feel anything too strong for too long or I could die. I stay away from nostalgia and hard questions and sad songs and looking in the mirror for too long.

You see, I want to be the girl with the blue hair. I want to be the girl on the train. I want to be the one with no priorities and no future and no past. I want to be the girl with the blue hair. I want to want feelings and connections rather than a fence and a nice wreath.

I want to get back the parts of my soul that were constantly seeking. It’s easy to look back now and romanticize the insanity. I miss creating. I miss destroying. I miss taking risks and not wanting to grow up. I miss feeling brave for not having a plan for the rest of my life. Right now, it’s all planned out. I’m getting older and my soul is disappearing.

I miss those nights where I’d stay up ’til three in the morning, writing poems on maps. I miss making movies. I miss writing. I miss missing people. I miss the absence of The Clock that reminds me that time is running out and I need to get ahead.

It’s all to Soco Amaretto Lime by Brand New. An anthem of our youth.

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One thought on “A Song for Days Like These Part III

  1. “I feel so managed. I feel so structured. I have a fear that letting go of my new, type-A adult life will lead to a mental health spiral, a deterioration. ”

    That fear is well-founded. Take heed, you can’t have the happiness of a properly managed life if you don’t maintain the momentum. Be the girl with blue hair on vacation.

    That’s how I do it. Short, conservative hair 50 weeks of the year. Throw all of that structured crap in the garbage for two.

    Like

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