“things don’t get better, just different.”

mikey turned to me and said that if he were to get any words tattooed, it would be the aforementioned lyrics from hot mulligan’s song “bckyrd.” 

he said this to me as we were swaying together in the back of the ginormous crowd of hot mulligan’s set at warped tour, where i spent my birthday. my dearest friends surrounded me, and my cherished artists performed as i turned 25. i sang cathartically and danced drunkingly the whole weekend. 

i met the members of one of my favorite bands, waterparks. it was my fifth time seeing them play live, and it will definitely not be my last. i buy their concert tickets every time they tour in my city. 

the weekend before, i went to new york city for the governor’s ball (colloquially and affectionately called govball). i saw audrey hobert, who i am betting is my 2026 spotify wrapped top artist. i was finna in the pit for pierce the veil. this was much to my dismay at first, but emily pushed us to the front. the adrenaline rush from the pierce the veil pit was unmatched. i screamed along to the setlist as i watched a man lose his emotional composure in the crowd. he turned and said to the people behind him, while sobbing, “i never thought i would be alive to see pierce the veil.” i was grateful for emily’s insistence after i overhead that. 

to end my govball experience, lorde performed “ribs.” a slow-motion blur filled the air as everyone pointed to their best friend and yelled, “you’re the only friend i need.”

emily pointed and yelled, “you’re the only friend i need” to me. i pointed and yelled “you’re the only friend i need” in return. we hugged and said “i love you” at the end.

after warped tour, i knew i was returning to some sort of shit show at work. my boss is anxious and recently got promoted. she gave me a lecture on professionalism and emphasized a newfound pressure amongst everyone in my department as “big changes” are occurring. i immediately fell into a depression. when my loved ones and loved artists engulfed me in their sincerity the past two weeks, i did not have to worry about professionalism or perceived pressure. 

i spent the past week tearing up every so often and feeling an immense heaviness on my soul. every time my boss asked me a question i wanted to gouge my eyes out and leave them on her desk. i was, and still am, paranoid and sad. i dream of quitting and living in the woods with mikey, only emerging into society at my convenience. 

now it’s sunday, a full week after i chirped along to “tonight, tonight” as mikey held me. i had a perfect view of hot chelle rae, who is releasing music for the first time since 2011. before “tonight, tonight,” they played a new song about having a thing for tomboys. 

instead of living in warped tour and govball, i have to prepare myself for what was debriefed to me as a tumultuous week. time-consuming tasks and an unknown discomfort among colleagues await me tomorrow morning. and it’s all because i need to generate revenue for a governmental program with questionable intentions, or else my boyfriend and i can’t afford to move into an apartment with basic necessities.

“things don’t get better, just different.” i tattooed mikey echoing those words on my brain. it splays next to emily yelling, “you’re the only friend i need” as we dance in the sticky summer night. when i die, i hope the seven minutes that flash before me include those moments. 

i do not want to see the hours where i toiled over emails and meetings. i do not want to hear any of my bosses telling me i need to act a certain way to appear poised to the higher-ups. i do not want the actions i committed to survive to conflict with the moments where i truly felt alive. i do not want my subordination to corporate america mentioned in my final moments. i do not want to live life dreading the week ahead and only living for the evenings and weekends. 

i feel like i betrayed myself from two months ago. i was inconsistent with posting. i was so caught up in enjoying the 72 waking hours in a week that were not dedicated to work.  i am currently enveloped in the overwhelming unease of the 40 hours i have to perform as someone i do not want to be. 

i want ownership of those extra 40 hours. i know i can serve myself in that time better than any company can. i know i am great, and capitalism is holding me back. and i am so tired of feeling depressed over it. 

i am going to write an article every sunday. i am going to persevere when the algorithm and the world are against me. i am going to make sure that things get better, not just different.