Content Warning: While this post is a mostly humorous description of how music can be a very nostalgic experience, I do talk about thoughts of mortality and fear of aging, so please take note if that affects you!

Now that I’m on the brink of 20, growing old has become such a terrifying feeling…Woah woah, before you click off this post, scoffing at how someone so young could possibly be feeling something as aging so profoundly, hear me out!!  Please?  

Luckily, my joints aren’t failing me yet, but every now and then I’m struck by a sinking feeling that my childhood is coming to an end, if it hasn’t already.  A year like 2012, which feels like yesterday in my mind, was actually ages ago.  Back then, ten-year old me was distressed over some cataclysmic end of the world prophesied by an ancient Mayan calendar and ingrained into my mind by the science-fiction movie 2012.  Nine years later, I’d argue that I am living during the beginning of the end of the world: routinely chipping away at Blackboard response posts and humanities readings while my country is crumbling, my community is dying, and the climate is rapidly atrophying.  And you’re telling me that once I graduate, I’m expected to live out the rest of my days spent working for the privilege to rest and retire?  My inner child yearns for more.   

What exactly provoked all these thoughts, you ask?  Well, I was attempting to rap Eminem’s “Lose Yourself” from memory at 1am last night, and as usual, only made it through the first verse.  As other bangers like “Temperature” by Sean Paul, “Yeah!” by Usher, and “Tik Tok” by Kesha played, I decided to create a Spotify playlist of my personal childhood nostalgia-inducing songs.  

However, upon searching for the photo that would make the perfect playlist cover, I recognized Pitbull’s voice filtering through my earbuds: “And tonight, let’s enjoy life, Pitbull, Nayer, Ne-yo, that’s right.”  As Ne-Yo slid on the first chorus, my eyes began to well up with tears. Why the hell am I crying to a Pitbull song?  After from coming off of taking one of the hardest exams thus far in my academic career, I think I needed to hear Mr. Worldwide reassuring me to enjoy my life and all its bright spots, even if they’re now in the past.  He’s been there, done that, after all.  

As I closed my eyes to listen to the rest of the playlist, memories began flooding through my mind: of rubbing chalk on my palm as the powdery scent wafted through the gymnastics center in PG Sports and Learning Complex, jockeying with my siblings for control of the Wii while playing Super Mario Galaxy in my grandmother’s basement, of my elementary Catholic school uniform biting into my skin as I leaned forward in my seat to trade verses of Macklemore’s “Can’t Hold Us” with my friends—trying to spell “I-N-D-E-P-E-N-D-E-N-T” as fast as possible, tripping over our words and ending up in piles of laughter.  Or, of warning my little sister not to scratch the CD version of Adele’s “21,” or watching countless FlipNotes set to Kanye West’s “Stronger” on my Nintendo DSi, or of my fifth grade class grooving Beyoncé’s “Love on Top” while playing pirate ball in the auditorium, or even innocently asking my dad from the backseat of his truck why there were so many BEEEP noises on Ludacris’s “Move Bitch” (the censored version).  A kaleidoscope of these memories and more swirled across my mind. 

We had our ups and downs, but overall, I was fortunate to have a good home life, so some of the best years in my memory were spent with my family.  What’s worse, I didn’t even remember most of these until I started making the playlist!  These good times aren’t on my mind on a daily basis, but while it’s nice to revisit them, it’s also a bit painful.  My family is beginning to go our separate ways, for what might be the foreseeable future. My little sister has left to start her dancing career in Europe, my oldest brother will move out any day now, and as soon as I graduate from college, my parents plan to sell the house I grew up in and move to Florida with my other brother.  My mother jokes about cleaning out my room while my sister and I are gone and giving away all our old things. However, I can’t fathom parting with some of the books, knick-knacks, and stuffed animals I spent years playing with, some of which are relics of family members passed on. 

One of my favorite youtubers, Nathan Zed, talks a lot about the connection between music, nostalgia, and emotions.  He actually made a video a few months ago that talked about this exact topic. In it, he discusses how the music he listened to during particular periods of his life shaped some of his most well-loved memories spent with friends and family. He mentioned something that really resonated with me, that “Music is only as good as the memories that are attached to it.”

I think there’s a lot to say about the visceral reactions that music can invoke, and while listening to my new playlist of childhood bangers, I certainly feel this nostalgia as a bittersweet hand gripping my heart.  After all, I never gave my permission to participate in the passage of time!  As I wade my way through life’s major transitions, a deep-seated fear of change continues to crop up from time to time, fueling desperate attempts to capture and cling to my childhood.  

(🚨shameless plug alert!🚨) If you’re so inclined to indulge in your own dose of nostalgia, I’ve provided a link to the playlist in question, so feel free to take a listen!