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.