she, she screams in silence a sullen riot penetrating through her mind waiting for a sign to smash the silence with the brick of self control are you locked up in a world that’s been planned out for you? are you feeling like a social tool without a use? scream at me until my ears bleed i’m taking heed just for you she’s figured out all her doubts were someone else’s point of view waking up this time to smash the silence with the brick of self control

— she, green day

last night as the voice of alan’s brother angelo was singing along to green day’s she in the tape player, we sat in our cars behind rush arcade. the song subdued in the background of our cars invoked an image of a thirteen-year-old me back in grade seven. grade seven where kids were carefree and the only consequential problem being who was picked last in california kick-ball.

green day’s album dookie was the anthem for the rambuncious pre-teens we were as we tried to act older than we were, attending parties where people played “spin the bottle” and “seven minutes in heaven.” i guess i matured late because i was never really interested in making out with the opposite sex. i was more concerned with finishing my projects early and reading the latest judy blume novel.

speaking of which, just as long as we’re together became a favourite as the characters in the book were struggling with the understandable woes of puberty and high school crushes. “we must, we must increase our bust” became the mantra for us grade seven girls back in 1994 as we read are you there god? it’s me margaret.

as cliché as it sounds, it feels just like yesterday when i was begging to walk to school with my friends and now i can’t even get down a block without feeling winded. i was begging for new responsibilities and now i wish i were back in that dependant, infantile stage.

“do you have the time to listen to me whine?” i guess not.