Coming of Age

I think to be the eldest sibling is to take on this burden that is complicated, confusing and overwhelming, a burden that we would volunteer to endure again if it was somehow our choice. I would choose to be the one to care and love my brother in any universe.

I’m hoping to make life as pleasant as possible this semester — especially if it means I get to play the insufferable main character of my indie film. 

Learning to come to terms with how to celebrate my birthday without hurtful expectations was challenging. It’s sometimes difficult to put away that pride because it’s something we all want to protect. But when I did, I’m glad it hurt enough to know that I cared enough to heal. 

While once aimlessly passionate, I am now well-versed in the intricacies of alternative subcultures. And, as always, I am on a constant path of evolution, error and memory.

But as this column has demonstrated, picture books are not the only thing from our childhoods that stick with us; there are so many little things that do as well.

I dream of a bittersweet symbolic and literal end, one that releases me from the silly trivialities of life. I want to be old and nagging, receiving movie theater and bus discounts for the suffering I have endured in my very human experience. 

While the film crafts a fairly heartwarming narrative, it ultimately bites off more than it can chew, failing to dive deep into its many themes and narrative threads.

However fulfilling (or not) my future may become, I’ve been trying to remember that I still have myself, and this singular existence is still something special that I have as my own.

I’m 23 tomorrow… feels weird putting it into the universe after trying not to think about it all year. I am definitely not where I thought I’d be as I turn another year older.

As one continues in their college career, it is natural to grow a bittersweet relationship with their hometown. I feel so naturally at home but simultaneously the ghost of my youth — who I used to be taunts me.