Neurotypicality is a privilege.
It seems odd that last year’s playlist was only a few posts ago, but stupidly that was the only entry that survived the blogpocalypse.
Every year I create a playlist – a kind of soundtrack to the year if you will. It’s not just the songs I listened to most (although often they are on high rotation) – each is attached to a specific memory, acting as a conduit of sorts.
Ever since I began this M.A I have fallen into the habit of scanning texts – obsessively flicking pages, scribbling notes – so much so that I often forget the simple joys of slow reading. I have about ten books on the go at the moment. Count them. That’s not a completely uncommon practice for anyone who studies writing, anyone who writes and edits for a living, or is a compulsive bookworm, but this frenzied desire to consume and conquer is frankly what landed me in front of a therapist to begin with.
Lately I’ve been pushing each pill through its foil shield so hard that it breaks in two in my hand. I divide and calculate, and consider briefly what it would be like to turn up the vibrancy just for a little while. Nothing long-term. Just a slice to carry me over Christmas. Something to remember myself by.
I wonder if hybrid non-fiction can include part-cautionary-tale.
I write it down just in case.
My two best friends were swinging side by side, slightly out of unison. It will be my turn soon, they assured me and I shrugged like I don’t care. I’d locked my arms around the playground poles, looping my body around in circles, my hands smelling of dust and metal. Earlier, we had skipped to the park singing Listen to Your Heart, agreeing that Marie was really pretty – even with short hair – debating whether she and Per were “together”
When I was younger, my mother told me to make sure that I married my best friend. Predictably, I ignored her advice (twice). Third time lucky. 😉
Happy Birthday to the love of my life, my partner in crime, the keeper of 11 years of pop-culture references and person most likely to say yes to my (probably terrible) ideas. You’ll always be my favourite adventure.