Softer
FINDING ACCEPTANCE AND FRIENDSHIP IN THE LITTLE JOYS
Art by Alyssa Doust
the past few years sucked ass. i could talk about the pandemic. the lonely nights of spring 2020, stoned and alone in my high school bedroom. my 19th birthday i spent by myself, with a bottle of shitty rosé and a half-nude drunken photoshoot to commemorate my last year as a teenager. it’s like the second i finally made friends, i’m sent to time-out in the middle of recess.
that last year as a teenager felt like a sealed jar. it was claustrophobic, stuffy, and empty. the only direction i felt was from big arrows plastered in every grocery store aisle. the streets were barren even with cars in the opposite lane. the sky was always gray despite the sun being out. it was a shitty sophomore season.
twenty was supposed to be THE year. the year of friendship, the year of love, the year of grace, the year of me. instead, twenty was a nightmare, a nightmare that didn’t evaporate from the backs of my eyes in the morning. instead, twenty was a cage.
but, now i am 21, and the air feels softer. i look forward to opening my front door, both when i’m stepping out, and in. it’s summer, and i’m 21. i can drink and dance and laugh and i don’t care what i look like because i’m here with people who actually like me. i wear funky secondhand shoes that show my toes—and i only think about it twice.
i’m 21 and i speak with a smooth tongue instead of a frog in my throat. i no longer plan three sentences in advance. i speak from the edge of my seat and loud enough for the room to hear. i leave a dish in the sink for more than ten minutes. i tidy my room each day. i take my little pill and i fall back in love with books.
for so long, i felt so bound by the way you made me feel. i constantly worried what you thought of me. i wanted to be your friend. i wanted you to be happy. i wanted your forgiveness. but you cannot reason with an unreasonable person.
on my favorite nights, i sit on a milk crate on my fire escape and listen to the city sounds. i find friendship in everything. the tree above my head, who tickles the wooden railing, and creates the perfect frame for the painted night sky. the stars, who wink hello, and the moon, who shines a light that gives a silhouette to rows of arching roofs.
i’m 21, and i finally understand that the default to meeting one another is not hatred. the default is always love.