The song comes on and I'm in my twenties again, miserable and ready to sprout wings, dancing with furious joy by myself in a filthy, rotting RV in the desert. I still believe implicitly in all of my arrogant dreams for my future, sure that I will shake off the dust of this little town and rise to glory, and that once I do, I will never be sad or lonely again.
Not only does time give the lie to youthful hubris, but it takes all the things we love and shows them to us next to the ever-expanding scope of our lives. We come to know that the songs of our lives, the ones that live in our hearts, have fallen from fashion, but we'll still feel that youthful pang of longing, and we'll still reach over and turn that shit all the way up.
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