It felt good to be twenty-two last night.

Jess and I went to Taylor Swift’s Red concert and it was wonderful to be just belting out songs and dancing and not having to care about what people think or worry about who I am.

I got into the stadium. I put down the weight of everything that haunts me and let the voices of concertgoers drown them out. Here, people sing, and there is no place for cancer. Here, people dance, and there is no place for suicide. Here, the ghosts of my past are diminished by light sticks and choruses and I tell myself,

I am young.

I am young.

And tonight, I do not need to cry.