~Spoiler alert: The answer is obviously no.
Though I'd hesitated with this post.
This post is pretty personal and though I occasionally toss a few fun facts about myself in my reviews, this post is all me.
Lately, I've been feeling old. I just turned twenty-one. (Yay?) And in awaiting the grand day, I pretty much notched each day off the calendar like a giddy maniac, no caffeine required. But when the day finally arrived, everyone tossing me the merriest "Happy birthdays!" I felt so deflated.
Is that weird?
A while back, I was in Barnes and Noble, pursuing the YA section (per usual) and a gaggle of preteen girls–who could've probably been freshman in high school or something–were analyzing a mini TFIOS boxed set, which included The Fault In Our Stars and the oh-so-notorious, This Star Won't Go Out.
Then, I had a terrible thought: Am I too old to be here?
Yeah, I know. I KNOW. What the. What.
MG has become my shit, also. I mean, really, it's so cool. I started adding books like crazy to my TBR a few weeks ago and was like, “This is bomb. This is, like, fireworks. Whoa. Whoa."
Then, that mortifying thought returned: Am I too old for these?
In my heart, I know I'm fine. I'm not trying to get Disney on y'all but for real. Like, obviously, there's no such thing as an age-limit to any genre. My mom was so awed by the cover of Dumplin' and has even wanted to read it herself – obviously, she hasn't seen my review (ha!). I mean, I already have enough insecurities and I'm over here worrying about being a giant oddball? Like, really.
Whether I am too old, I've hit the designated age-limit - THE AGE LIMIT IS NONEXISTENT SIKE - I'm gonna continue reading YA and MG (and those occasional NAs and Adult) because those are the only genres I can genuinely tolerate. Plus, they're fucking cool. Excuse the language. And if anyone ever tries to bother any of y'all with their pointless jabs - though I'm 99.99% it's unlikely because who'd ever??? Throw them the fiercest shade ya know and quote this GIF.