Sometimes, when I hear Cirice, I think about how much I would have adored that song as a goth teen (not that I don’t adore it now as a goth old person) and I get all emotional and I feel like Molly Grue from The Last Unicorn. It’s not a unicorn that has arrived before me, however, it’s Ghost, and I want to wail “Where where you twenty years ago, ten years ago? How dare you, how dare you come to me now, when I am this?”
Not to be dramatic or anything. Herpaderp. Mostly, I think I’m just getting to this horrible age now where I’m filling up with regrets like one of those rain gauge things you leave in the yard. You forget about it, and then one day you look at it and you realize it’s spilling over and you’re standing in the middle of the storm like an idiot and you’re drenched and you don’t know what to do and everyone else seems to have an umbrella. And is young and has their shit together. Or something. I try very hard these days to feel ok about myself, but I mostly just feel awkward and lost. And I’m glad I have my husband and my friends and awesome music to help me muddle through, but I’m still Molly Grue.
I’m also Schmendrick, but that’s another post for another time.