Your taste in music changed and nobody threw you a party. Notice the quiet ways you’re becoming someone.

Becoming someone happens without announcements. There is no ceremony for the week your taste changed, or for the month you stopped minding being alone, or for the day you started finding a certain joke unfunny. Because nothing marks them, you can spend years assuming you are the same person you were at thirteen.

Once in a while, take an inventory of the small things. What you listen to, what you read, what you now find boring, what you no longer argue about. The list is short and oddly moving, and it is better evidence of growth than a grade.