"rox, i have to go. there's cake, and they're singing 'happy birthday'."
"ah! all right, have fun and i'll see you soon! happy birthday, welcome to your third decade!"
i don't know what prompted me to phrase my sentiment that way, but the comment freaked taylor out, as well as myself. the word 'decade' still maintains a heavy, practically interminable connotation in my imagination, separate but not so removed from eras and centuries. to be on the brink of entering (or five months into, in my case) a third decade is nothing short of terrifying. i lamented over leaving the suffix of -teen behind back in july, but never contemplated this particular phenomenon, and frankly, my dears, it's daunting.
"if you give it a minute, it's gone.. if we're just waiting a second too long.."
luckily for me, too much saved by the bell clouded my nine-year-old perception, and contrary to my tween predictions, the sun does not rise and set on youth during high school, chattering away beside an impeccably decorated locker in bright, punchy threads. for all intents and purposes, i'm entering my golden age, but its inherent transience paired with my self-awareness renders me hesitant. how's it going to be? locked away in a library, in furious pursuit of academic excellence until framed diplomas of increasing rank materialize upon my walls? perpetually adrift, opposed to nothing and open to everything, eternally testing the waters until they give way to something permanent?
i believe that no matter how complacent a generation of youth appears in retrospect, youth itself is a complex and teeming revolution. which faction will i be a part of? and how will i choose to convey my allegiance to the world? i'm beginning to bristle at the idea of being told by vogue's age issue how to play up my youthful energy via carefully chosen hem lengths and heel heights. i prefer the less-traveled, autodidactic road, since with all due respect, i can't adhere to boundaries set by someone else. is this a rebel song?