One of my best friends lives with me in Chicago. Whenever we drive back home to Michigan she insists on taking a trip down memory lane and miring through my old burned CDs to find the appropriately titled "cheesiest CD." Think boybands circa Justin Timberlake's corn rows, vintage Britney and when Mandy Moore had a singing career. It's a time capsule straight back to high school.
And the other day driving around my hometown, I put it on - and immediately felt like I was back in my purple Grand Am, leaning into the curves of the road like I used to. Which is usually with the windows down, music up and faster than I should.
I can only imagine what people were thinking, seeing me belt out decade-old songs at the top of my lungs with a goofy grin on my face. But I was 17 again, and teenagers don't give a shit.
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