WEEK 12 OF A PIECE A WEEK
There's only one of me in all the world.

technically managed to post this one places before the end of saturday so this still counts
this week's piece echoes the sort of "lesson" i've been taught these past few days. both as an exercise in writing, and to give the full scope of the weight of this phrase and this piece, the following is what will possibly be the most in-depth write-up for any of the pieces this year.
two big things happened this week.
on march 21st, 2025, i turned 20, officially marking the end of my "teen years" and indicating what i've been told is a more "serious time."
and, i mean it kinda is?
i struggle with dwelling on my own mortality and aging. it's something that's only been heightened over the years and it feels like it hits a peak whenever something big like my birthday happens.
i worry a lot that i haven't paid enough attention to the things i've done in my life. a lot of it i can chalk up to me just being too young to remember or care (as drastic as that sounds).
up until recently, i just sorta saw myself as a decent person who tries their best. it takes a lot of effort to be a good friend, a good artist, a good student, and i do my best at all of those things.
i didn't realize the impact i'd had on others until i was talking with my best friend recently.
i haven't really been a witness to the impact my work has had on others, what with the whole "can't remember what you weren't there for" rule.
but it was after hearing her talk with me about it all, about how much i'd done for her just as a person, let alone as a musician, it really drove home that i did the one thing i aspire to do:
have an impact.
the following is heavy. if you're not in a good spot please don't read this it will likely not help.
on march 21st, 2025, i lost a close family member to cancer, officially marking the end of his many years and indicating what i'm being told is a more serious time.
because it is.
i struggle with dwelling on my own mortality and aging. it's something that's only been heightened over the years and it feels like it hits a peak whenever something big like a death in the family happens.
i've worried a lot lately that i didn't pay enough attention to the things he'd done in my life. a lot of it i can chalk up to me just being too young to remember or care (as drastic as that sounds).
up until recently, i just sorta saw him as a decent person who tried his best. it takes a lot of effort to be a good friend, a good father, a good husband, and he seemingly tried his best at all of those things.
i didn't realize the impact he'd had on others until i was in the hospital visiting him.
i haven't really been present for everything he'd done, what with the whole "can't remember what you weren't there for" rule.
but it was after seeing what all his death has affected, about how much he'd done for those around him, let alone my family, it really drove home that he did the one thing i aspire to do.
have an impact.
the constant churning of time fumbling over itself scares me in a way i have trouble expressing.
and in neither of these situations will you find me believing the people i'm writing about are perfect or even "great people."
but if there's one thing i know factually, one thing that's been driven home time and time again over this past week. no matter how many people walk this earth, no matter how many people may follow in my footsteps after i'm gone, i have to make what i have count.
because there's never gonna be another brooklynn ivy.
(i hope you all find this as powerful as i have, despite the piece just being miis)