It doesn’t really feel right to listen to this song now. It exists so exclusively and perfectly in another time of my life.
Aren’t you glad we grow up? Isn’t it fun to look back and watch your stupid young self get into such strangely expected, teenage conundrums?
It was the song of retreating to the toilets during class – sitting in the well lit, green cubicles writing my permanent marker pain on the walls.
The song of overhearing arguments between teenage lovers, while in hiding from my own lovers.
The song of driving fast on wet roads, to pretty places with my one true love.
The song of sitting in the shower in the dark, pulling razors apart and cutting my thumbs.
The song of trying not to eat anything, but ending up eating everything.
The song of wearing sexy clothes and heavy eye makeup.
The song of avoiding my ex boyfriend’s new girlfriend.
The song of her giving me smug looks, and me being secretly wounded.
The song of back-chatting the teachers and writing in my diary instead of doing work.
The song of hating and loving everyone.
The song of thinking that being called beautiful was the height of compliments.
The song of wearing my uniform all wrong.
The song of total self obsession and self love disguised by self loathing.
Thank god I’m not sixteen.