And we were singing along.
These songs we grew up with, songs we thought were written about us, songs we either have not heard for years or have constantly keep in our music players.
And they were playing again, one after the other, and all of a sudden we’re teenagers. Graduating from high school, stepping into college, angry at the world yet each one of us so sure that we are some special, tortured, misunderstood soul.
Except for our music heroes.
Our younger friends looked at us, bemused and wondering what the fuck were we singing while we didn’t pay any attention. Most kids these days never heard of Nirvana, the Smashing Pumkins, Radiohead. Never experienced the first time they heard Alanis and knew all they really want is put a hand in one pocket.
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It was silly. It was sad. It was wonderful.
