I'm not listening to Smashing Pumpkins.

I'm 15 again and planning to escape.

I'm not listening to Green Day.

I'm 17 and heartbroken.

I'm not listening to Operation Ivy.

I'm 18 and planning to escape.

I'm not listening to Minor Threat.

I'm 19, drunk, angry, and hopeless.

I'm not listening to The Rentals, "Return of the Rentals".

I'm 20, in the backseat of a grungy car, jubilant on acid.

I'm not listening to Reggie and the Full Effect.

I'm 21 and temporarily heartbroken.

I'm not listening to The White Stripes.

I'm 23 and elated.

I'm not listening to The Rentals' "Seven More Minutes".

I'm 24 and heartbroken again, this time worse.

On Saturday I was riding in the car, and I was listening to Smashing Pumpkins, and I felt alright.

It was the last day I was 24.