Photo by Madeline Sommers featuring Sarah Phenix as seen in Mad Sounds Magazine Issue 25
I have been under the impression for far too long that I am too young for the world.
That the rhythms of the city should intimidate me, and the lust I have for life should be swept under the rug.
I’m released into the “real world” this upcoming May. The unspoken fear of the future is not a radical notion, no one knows exactly what they want to do with the unfolding of their life. There is no specific formula, no praxis, no chronological order. It’s on the forefront of all our minds, inducing motion sickness due to the quick moving pace of it all.
The process in between is often overlooked. It’s not a waste. So pull up your pants and look down at your callused hands, and in pleasant and present time being, continue to hand the world an olive branch even at the expense that it might get run over by a city bus.
I am writing to you, someone 16, somewhat 60 (in no place of experience either), just eternally head-over-heels in agreement with Hemingway’s modern day proverb: “In order to write about life we first must live it.”
It’s a gift you know, to live amidst “the golden days.”
no one ever talks about the dire need of personal growth on the rainy days, and the reward of the latter.