Britney

This school year feels different. Last week one of my very best friends and I saw L7; I met Donita Sparks afterwards, in the bar while I was looking for my lost phone. It felt like a still from the ’70s, when an aspiring groupie finally meets her idol. It was a tender moment drenched in sweat and blue eyeliner. I stood in awe afterwards on a street corner with my friend as she smoked and showed me the pick that Donita gave her. “I can’t believe she touched me,” she said, her eyes widening with so much admiration that my heart almost burst. “I’ll never forget this. I’m never washing my hand.”

I go through entire days happy—this is not normal for me. I don’t get tired. I smile all the time and I kiss my friends on the cheek when I see them and I look forward to things. I like all of my classes. I answer questions and perk up when my name is called and take extensive notes on everything the teacher says. My conversations are no longer awkward, I compliment random people in the hallways, and I talk to the seniors. I do not cry when I remember that they will be gone next year and I will be taking their place; I have learned to appreciate the present. It is a gift. I have no recollection of what it is like to be depressed from the time I wake up to the time I struggle to go to sleep. I do not feel normal, and for once in my life, this is a very, very good thing. ♦