A Life with Fewer Walls by Ashley Musick

I believe in tearing down the walls that make us lonely. Most of us built them before middle school. But just when it seems like they will always be impenetrable, I remember. What I really believe in is slumber parties.

As I think back, I remember this: Before the party even starts the crusty covering for my personality begins chipping away. And I see it happening to everyone else too. Life becomes more relaxed as we get to the house.

Pajama time isn't a fashion show. And there aren't any boys to impress. Not that boys aren't involved. After all, we ask every girl in the room who she has a crush on. After a lot of silence, giggling, and squealing, each finally confesses. This is the climax. Everyone screams and claps. You can hear utterances like "Aww, he's so cute." And of course the slow and soulful pronunciation of her first name with his last name.

It takes a pretty long time for all of the girls to go through the whole crush confession. So by the time everyone's done it's "time for bed," which is really a funny phrase since we never fall asleep. But still, "time for bed" means time to "whisper." And "whispering" at a slumber party is pretty weird too. Actually, it's usually pretty loud. And it almost always involves saying things you wouldn't say during the day. Comments that would seem stupid at school are suddenly the cool things to say. Everything becomes funny. Sometimes everyone is laughing and they don't know what they're laughing at.

But that's the cool thing about slumber parties. They're so cool because there's nothing cool about them at all! No one is wearing cool clothes, or cool make-up. And nobody is saying cool things or laughing in a cool way. Suddenly, no one is any better than anyone else. And no one cares! I feel like all that equality and laughter is what makes everyone feel so darn good. We stay up all night energized by giggles.

In the morning we drift downstairs for pancakes. Sadly, the magic of the slumber party slowly fades away. Of course it's there in the beginning. But as everyone finishes breakfast they remember how tired they are. And it's time to clean up. But worst of all, it slowly becomes time to be cool again. The makeup and clothes go back on as the openness wears off.

By the time school comes on Monday, we hide behind walls. Each individual carries a shield, and every clique builds a fortress. Sometimes I don't think we can live like it's a slumber party. But other times, the memory is enough. It's sparked with an exchange of a smile and the secret knowledge of one another's crushes. And sometimes you can drop your shield if you run into each other in the girls' bathroom.

But mostly, I'm trying to live my life like one giant slumber party. Everyone is equal, and I’m never too cool.

Ashley Musick is a psychology major from Nashville, Tennessee.

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