A sonic letter to my seventh grade self. 

The music you heard comes from Nat Strand and Sam McMullan, who goes by Cicada Killer. They both are insanely talented. 

Falling in love, one voice memo at a time. 

Thank you to Tom Sayers and Annie Bennett for the editorial advice. 

There’s one video on the internet that I return to more than any other that exists: the final 3 minutes and 39 seconds of Game 7 of the 2016 NBA Finals. The score is tied at 89. The Cleveland Cavaliers, my home team, are facing off against the unbeatable Golden State Warriors. 

I grew up on Cavs basketball. As a kid, I had two dreams: one, to play in the NBA; two, to become LeBron James. I often sported my goofy Varejão wig, clutched an autograph from Daniel “Boobie” Gibson from his day camp, and waited year after year for a miracle that never came.

Until 2016.

The Cavs had never won a championship. No team had EVER come back from a 3–1 deficit in the Finals. So many people lost hope.

But, Cleveland reminded me what's possible when you believe.

Stella was my childhood best friend. These days, I mainly see Stella as a name in a group chat of middle school friends. I fly home to ask Stella what happened to us and try to grapple with growing apart.

A trailer for you.