It’s Supposed To Be Fun Turning Twenty-One (An Essay)
I am never giddier than when April swings around every year. My birthday month is an event that I draw out for as long as possible and ride high on for weeks after. It’s filled with my favorite raspberry poppyseed cake, going out for drinks with friends from school, garden parties on the back porch, brunch with my family, making my dad blast Taylor Swift in the car, and birthday outfits that I pick out weeks in advance. As far as I’m concerned—April 18th is the best day of the whole year.
I sat in my bed on April 17th and watched The Princess Diaries 2: The Royal Engagement like I had told myself I would do on this night when I was ten years old. The clock struck midnight while Princess Mia lead a group of little girls in the parade to the soundtrack of Kelly Clarkson’s Breakaway, and I spent my first few minutes of twenty-one swooning over a young Chris Pine.
My movie ended and I was left alone in my room feeling a gloomy sort of pit in my stomach (why there was a pit of gloom in my stomach after I had just spent two hours watching a young Chris Pine is beyond me!) I sat with this pit for most of my birthday, but it didn’t really hit me until I was driving home from a girl’s day with my mom. I sat in the passenger seat and tried my best to not let it spill out of me all at once, but my efforts were in vain.
All I could think was, “it’s not supposed to feel like this. I am not supposed to feel lonely on my favorite day of the year.”
I learned a pretty hard truth this past year––it’s just as possible to feel lonely surrounded by people as it is to feel lonely when you have no one. It’s why I moved home and transferred out of my old school, and it’s why I felt so staggeringly lonely on my birthday this year. All of my friends from high school have gone off to college, and I am here. I left all of my college friends back in Canada, and now I am here. I live in a town seriously lacking people in their twenties, and here I am. Here I am lying in this lonely bed that I made for myself.
So, when I let the tears fall, I told my mom all about my loneliness and about my hopes and dreams for twenty-one. I told her I wanted to feel unstuck, understood, and surrounded by people who had similar dreams to mine. I told her that I envied the girls on my Instagram feed that had friends out the wazoo, and that I even envied the girls working in the Madewell downtown because they all seemed like such cute work best friends.
I poured it all out to her on the drive home and that night, I sat on my bedroom floor to eat my birthday cake and drink a glass of wine by myself. The new Taylor Swift album kept me good company. I certainly felt like a tortured poet as I cried and wrote down notes between bites of cake and sips of wine (album review coming in the near future).
More than anything, I think April 18th this year reminded me that growing up is a wonderful and scary thing. I am rapidly changing and evolving, but I am also changing and evolving at a different pace than those around me. This loneliness is a feeling that will pass, and I will find people to grow and change with in the fast approaching years of my early twenties.
It makes me even more giddy for all the April 18th’s come because I know that at some point I won’t feel lonely anymore. I will feel understood and known, and I definitely won’t have it all together, but I’m 110% sure that one of these years I will have someone to listen to Taylor Swift’s 13th album, drink wine, and eat cake with.
In Defense of Amy March
I am of the opinion that no one will ever grow up as ungracefully as Amy March, and I mean that in the best way possible because she is me, and I am her. My beloved Amy burned manuscripts, stole European trips, whined about not being invited to countless parties, loved a boy who didn’t love her back, dreamed big dreams, and longed to feel seen and understood by those around her. She is truly me in all the best and worst (!!!!) of ways.
I’ll go ahead and say it—like Amy—I’m a pretty jealous person. I have high taste and a desire to see the world with only a part-time nanny job and a dream. The only difference between us at this point is that I live in the digital age where I can easily see other people’s extravagant lives. That means I’m probably a million times more insufferable about my big dreams and jealous rage.
A few other ways Amy and I are one in the same:
We both fall in love with boys who are in love with someone else/don’t love us back (note: I’ve never actually been in love I’m just dramatic)
If I had been born a younger sister, I definitely would have thrown a fit and burned something
We both dream of traveling to Europe to perfect our craft
Growing up—all of my friends said I was the one who was most likely to marry the prince of a small country
RIP Amy March, you would have been an insufferable Taylor Swift fan (it’s me, hi)
If you’re an avid Little Women fan the way that I am, you’ll be familiar with the Amy March hate train. My question is, why? I just wrote two paragraphs and a list explaining why Amy March and I are the same person, and I am delightful and beloved. She is a dramatic, jealous, vain, lover girl, but so am I. So if you disrespect Amy March, you disrespect me.
I refuse to apologize for wanting to be seen and understood by those around me, so I don’t think Amy—an actual child for most of the book/movie—should have to apologize either. If you’ve been reading Madalyn Writes for awhile, you’ll remember the letter about loving the things you love because you love them. Every characteristic I’ve written about above is why people find Amy to be an insufferable character, but they’re the exact same reasons why I love her.
My birthday wish this year is for more people to love Amy March the way that I do. Let’s start taking dramatic lover girls a little more seriously! Life is too short to not recognize that we keep the world going round.
BYLT (Birthday’s Version)
Drinking Water Out of a Mason Jar
I promise, this has been life changing for me. You can find the big ones at your local craft store or steal them from your grandparents farm house (thank you Nan and Papa). I’ve also taken to popping a lid on there and carrying it around with me like a water bottle because it’s so cute and fun!
21 Favorite Songs
It’s pretty self-explanatory! Listen here!
The Princess Diaries 2: Royal Engagement
My 21st birthday movie of choice because you don’t know fun until you’re turning 21 alongside Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldi PrinCESS of Genovia. Also Julie Andrews!! Also a young Chris Pine *swoons*!!
Hair Bows
I bought myself two claw clips with hair bows for my birthday and I could not be more thrilled for another summer of hair bows, but a little more elevated. The one I bought 🎀
Dairy-Free Boursin Cheese
GUYS! This is huge for the charcuterie girls with IBS! It’s actually good (and I love Boursin cheese so this is saying a lot), so get in your car and head to your local grocery store immediately!
I Think You Guys Might Be Thinking About Yourselves Too Much
I stand by this: the white woman on Instagram who said this will go down in history. As what? I have no clue, but she will definitely go down in history for saying this as a response to “Any advice to unconfident young women?”
I actually love it so much. I think it’s the tough love this generation of young people needs to hear. The second I stop thinking about other people’s opinions—I start thinking about my own opinions of myself. Which is often so much worse than anything anyone would actually ever say or think about me. Thinking about ourselves too much, indeed!
My hyperfixation as of late has been the life and style of the late Carolyn Bessette Kennedy. CBK is one of those people I find myself wanting to emanate in my twenties. She made a name for herself in the fashion world before she ever became a Kennedy, and was praised by the likes of Calvin Klein and Michael Kors for her ability to stay 100% true to herself with her style and the way she carried herself.
In a world full of people who will tell you to be one thing or another, be a CBK or an Amy March and love the things that you love simply because you love them. It’s so much easier said than done, but my goal for twenty-one is to stop thinking about myself so much, and maybe, stop thinking about what others think of me too.
Rest assured that twenty-one will be full of no effs given, searching for more soul friends, and channeling my inner Amy March and Carolyn Bessette Kennedy in all of the best ways. Hopefully I won’t burn my enemy’s manuscript or take a private flight to Martha’s Vineyard, but maybe I’ll travel to Europe or marry a Kennedy (preferably both of these things at the same time)!
That’s all my thoughts for this month, gang. See you in May for my first letter as a twenty-one year old! 🌷🍊💌