A “Ribs” By Lorde on Repeat for Two Hours Type of Night
Photograph by Annie Millman
It is an event that happens at least once a month. And I call it an event because it’s nothing less than that. It usually happens before I get in the shower. I am staring at myself in the mirror as it fogs up with steam from the ungodly hot water spewing out of the shower head about three feet away from me.
I put on my go to crisis/thinking song. Whatever you wanna call what I’m going through. Of course, it’s everyone's favorite 2014 tumblr era song. Ribs. By Lorde. Obviously.
The drink you spilt all over me, Lover’s Spit left on repeat, mom and dad let me stay home, it drives you crazy getting old...
Her smokey voice plays through my iPhone 8 speakers and fills the bathroom as I enter the existential crisis about my life, as I reach to turn off the shower knob. I’m not getting into the shower for a while.
Some people do their deepest thinking in the shower, I do mine when I’m staring at myself in the mirror, both hands firmly planted on the cold, white countertop, leaning forward on my tippy toes. It’s a personal science.
Music is powerful, but rarely does a song ever speak to me the way this one does. And the experience of listening to it has remained unmatched. Her words are mine; we share a mind. It sounds like I am listening to myself sing the words on the track - except I don’t sound nearly so good. Maybe I just wrote the song? It sure feels like it. I am overwhelmed with a very specific emotion, unsure of whether it’s a feeling of nostalgia, or fear of the future. Maybe both. Or something in between. Whatever it is, it’s a familiar feeling, one that I am no stranger to.
Growing up is something that has always terrified me. That’s why I have cried at every graduation I’ve had. I wasn’t crying because I was sad about leaving - I couldn’t give a crap about the school or 97% of the people I had just walked across the stage with. I was crying because I was not ready to leave that part of my life behind.I just wasn’t ready to let go. I hate saying goodbye. Maybe it’s because I’m Irish. I see that day in my head as I stare into my own soul through the mirror. I see the red and white graduation caps of my high school scattered across the football field as I hug my mom and dad after the ceremony, diploma in hand. I see the drive home that night with my friends, windows down and the early summer breeze filling the car as we listen to an odd but tasteful combination of Tyler, the Creator and One Direction on full volume. Nothing less. I see our last summer together before we part ways for the first time in years, each starting our own journeys.
I snap back into reality as a tear runs down my cheek to the sound of my brother pounding on the door that doesn’t even shut all the way. “I’m about to shower!” I tell him through the crack of the door.
Now I’m staring at my brother - except ten years in the past. He’s five. He’s so happy. One of the things that pains me most about growing is seeing the people around me grow too. Sometimes I wanna freeze time and stop us all in our tracks. Living forever how we are now, without a worry about the future.
I’m pulled back to earth again by the sound of his teenage stomps going down the stairs, probably going to the bathroom down there. Whatever. Back to my mental flipagram.
This dream isn’t feeling sweet, we’re reeling through the midnight street, and I’ve never felt more alone, it feels so scary getting old...
I cried myself to sleep the night before my twelfth birthday. Who does that? Someone who gets a heart-wrenching feeling when thinking of the future and growing up, leaving her family and the only home she has ever known, that’s who. As a kid I dreaded growing up way more than I should have. Sure birthdays were fun and all, but the thought of straying further and further from my childhood with each passing day was petrifying to me. Even as a 12 year old, who was still practically living in their childhood.
Flash forward a few years, six to be exact, and move-in day of college was not dry-eyed either. I bawled my eyes out before I even left my house. “I’m scared, I’m scared!” I kept repeatedly forcing out between sobs to my mom and aunt who stood in front of me confused. “I thought she was excited to go?” I just barely make out between my gasps for air. I got to college twenty-five minutes away from my house - I would not really be “leaving” much behind. It sounds ridiculous, I know. I don’t really understand it either.
I want ‘em back, the minds we had, how all the thoughts, moved ‘round our heads...
Throughout all the change in my life as I grow up, one thing stays the same: the desire to go back to how it was when I was a kid. I guess I still am a kid. I’m 19. I have a few months left to fuck around before my life really starts to ‘count’.
Internally, I am so conflicted about how I feel. Because I am so eager to move onto my future. I know what I want my future to look like. I want to live in New York City. Be a writer, or something of the sorts. I want a kid. Or two or three. There are so many things that I am so excited about. But deep down, I have separation anxiety - from my past.
As I stare at myself in the mirror, I don’t just see 19 year old Genevieve. I see her in the past, I see all the decisions she’s made (and the mistakes) that have led her to exactly where she is today. I see her in the future too, but she’s more distant. I have so many questions to ask her, but I’m not really sure I want the answers.
You’re the only friend I need, sharing beds like little kids, laughing ‘til our ribs get tough, but that will never be enough.
And with that, the song is over. Luckily for me it’s on repeat, so I don’t even have to move a finger or turn my head. I can remain in my thoughts as the song loops for a while more - the song I am most grateful for in the world. It lets me know I am not alone in the rapidly changing world, and that while it’s important to progress and grow, it’s okay to look back and miss what once was. Thank you Lorde, for creating the theme song of the soundtrack to my life.