My Neighbors Might Hate Me (alternatively titled: Dammit)

I’m probably annoying my neighbors. I’ve discovered after switching through what felt like every playlist Spotify offers, I keep landing on their Pop Punk Powerhouse playlist for cleaning/cooking/packing. All the songs are nostalgic and catchy and angsty, and I love adding my voice—loudly and off-key. I can’t help screaming along with “Until the Day I Die” or belting out “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous” in a way that’s becoming increasingly less-ironic with each play.

Ok, fine, it was never ironic. I loved the All-American Rejects and Simple Plan and Green Day way back in middle school, and I loved them in college, and I love them now. And since I’m anxious about moving, and sad about leaving St. Louis, and missing my husband, I think I’m allowed to be a little emo and find comfort in the whiny pop-punk classics of my youth. At least my neighbors have been alerted to the fact that “The Kids Aren’t Alright” in this apartment.

In the words of Blink-182: Well, I guess this is growing up…

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