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like more than a friend.

cut offs

On my walk to work this morning I forgot how old I was.
Am I 21?  Nope. 22?  Hmm. I think that was last year. . .
OMG blanks. I’m drawing blanks! How old am I?!
I had to do the math to stop freaking out.
Way to start the day off scary, Marsh.

Oh!  Speaking of scary, I’ve also begun the horrendously terrifying yet ever-so-popular NYC life test of trying to find an apartment . . . in Brooklyn!  I’ve wanted to make this move for a while now and it’s seriously exciting albeit daunting/nerve-racking that by October 1st (fingers crossed) I will be all packed, moved, and on my way to living in a borough that feels more like my favorite pair of sample sale cut-offs rather than that seriously X-rated spandex leotard I still can’t convince myself to wear out in public.

Read:  too much sexy makes this baby go blind.

  • Darren

    yesterday or like two days ago
    Darren: “ugh, i’m not looking forward to turning 23.”
    Darren’s Friend: “but you are 23.”
    D: “no i’m not…shit, oh my god, am i?”
    DF: “yeah…did you forget?”
    D: grabs head and closes eyes, “shit! i completely forgot!”

    so yeah…i get it.

  • Amy

    whew! I’m so glad I’m not alone on this one. Maybe this is why we’re called twenty-somethings. You know, not because we’re lost, wide-eyed, hopelessly naive young things traipsing around without clues or directions or goals, but rather because, at the end of the day, we don’t always know what the second number in our own age is…

  • Darren

    i may quote you on that.