I finished “Don’t Let Me Be Lonely” by Claudia Rankine just now…

I checked out the book hoping to learn how to write a lyric essay. The book ended up teaching me how to survive my current, chaotic life.


This was a book with a great deal of notes. Twenty-two pages of notes. Twenty-two pages I thought I had left. I assume this feeling is a toned down heartache like someone who is given news that they don’t have much time left to live. “No!” I thought. “I thought I had more left!” I thought!

I hope no one takes offense to that previous statement. I have been thinking a lot about getting older and not feeling like I have enough time left as my twentieth birthday draws near. This Saturday I will be twenty. I will no longer be a teenager, but I don’t think I have reached the milestones of a teenager. I don’t think I am ready to let go of being a teenager. There are too many sappy YA novels I have yet to read! It’s too soon! I need more time! I’M NOT READY! But this is what I said last year. This is what I will probably say for the rest of my life. It’s funny. I used to be terrified of monsters, as most little girls are, but Halloween felt like this necessary evil to get my birthday (me day) and that it was the only way I could get presents and cake. I had this fear of growing up when I was a kid, too. I would have panic attacks about it, but it was because I realized as I got older, so did my mother, and my mother would end up dying. I am now a horror movie fan. By the time I was ten I no longer feared scary masks. I relish in Halloween, but now fear my birthday.


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