RIP Amy Winehouse. She would have been 30. I’m so tired of celebrating negative birthdays. It’s actually still quite hard for me to listen to her music, even now. Her songs cut too close to the bone; her vulnerability still feels like my own. I try to find a comfortable space to make peace with these painful emotions– to see the light/dark in reflection, to accept the quiet beauty in sadness, and to embrace the humor in melancholy. I feel too deeply: it is my burden, my blessing, and my curse.