My soul is an empty carousel at sunset

We are the girls with anxiety disorders, filled appointment books, five-year plans. We take ourselves very, very seriously. We are the peacemakers, the do-gooders, the givers, the savers. We are on time, overly prepared, well read, and witty, intellectually curious, always moving. We pride ourselves on getting as little sleep as possible and thrive on self-deprivation. We drink coffee, a lot of it. We are on birth control, Prozac, and multivitamins. We are relentless, judgmental with ourselves, and forgiving to others. We never want to be as passive-aggressive as our mothers, never want to marry men as uninspired as our fathers. We are the daughters of the feminists who said, "You can be anything", and we heard, "You have to be everything."

April was too lonely a month to spend alone. In April, everyone around me looked happy. People would throw their coats off and enjoy each other's company in the sunshine - talking, playing catch, holding hands. But I was always by myself.