Note: Another old post (Feb ’08) from my old blog. Still importing like crazy, yo!
On Monday, I turned 27, that enigmatic rock star age, which somehow feels a lot older than 26, but not in a bad way. I was sort of always eager to grow up in some ways, I think because I always felt like I was treated as soooo much younger at home that it just felt so incredibly claustrophobic. Even just thinking about it and remembering is making me tense up, like that feeling of claustrophobia is still stored in muscle memory.
I don’t know if it’s because of my albinism – perhaps paleness makes people think of innocence – or because of my disability, or because I sometimes have trouble standing up for myself, but for whatever reason, I get that a lot.