![]() A hook searching for bait in a world rapidly changing before my childhood eyes.įriendships formed through the collective trauma that is high school tend to have a weightier feel as we get older. But I was a passive passenger to the sounds that washed over me. My parents played music in the background, friends showed me some grunge and metal records I heard pop music on the radio. Up to this point in my life, music has been something that happened around me. Who am I? Who the ever-living-fuck am I? I walk to the bus stop. ![]() And standing there alone in my parent’s basement has my skin feeling like a hand-me-down Halloween costume. I’m about to start my first year of high school, and I am fucking terrified. ![]() The silence between us is not due to any real falling out but a byproduct of the stretching of time that turns brothers into strangers. None of whom I’ve spoken to in over a decade. Most of them were from my childhood neighborhood. A small circle of people in my life have ever called me Tate. But there’s something in the familiarity of the phrasing that picks at a scab in my brain. I’m thinking, “I can ignore this, right?” I almost always ignore these.
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