Some Kid's Angst

What made you read this? It’s a stupid story. You should go back, choose something else, before you realize how silly this story is going to be. This is your last chance. I'm about to start droning on. 

…

You’re still here? Why? Nevermind, I don’t want to know why. I don’t need to know that you’re only reading because you pity poor little me. I’ll pretend you’re reading because I’m good at writing. Even if you like my writing you might not like what I write about so I’ll warn you that this story isn’t worth the time it takes to read. What’s written here are stupid, silly worries of angsty teens like me. It’s not close to Earth shattering. It’s not impactful. It’s nothing more than what it’s like to be me.

Despite my warnings you’re still here, so I’ll say thank you and continue. I might have just met you but I’ve got a lot to thank you for. You are kind and generous, so much so that you let some emo teen reach out to you. It’s more than what most do. 

Most of the time what I say goes in one ear and out the other. It doesn’t matter how much I shout, they’ll never listen because they don’t think I’ve heard what they’ve got to say. They couldn't be more wrong. I’ve heard it all. All the times you’ve said I couldn’t be more than my name. 

My name? 

You might have already guessed but, hi, I’m the emo teen. I’m the kid who complains. I’m ignored and angry. I’m excited and eager to please. I’m a bundle of bad ideas that’s forgotten how to cry. I can be brilliant but since it’s not all I am it’s not what defines me. I’m just growing into adulthood and trying to figure out a world no one wants me in. I’m bound to make mistakes, but they don’t care that I’m new, they just care that I’m what they say. I’m defined by my falls because once someone like me has tripped, we’re all sure to. They used to say I’m the future, but now that I am learning how to be more, I’m nothing. 

It’s rare for anyone, even my peers to stay and listen like you are. Why would they? I’m just a teen.

I’m thanking you not only for myself but the friends I’m trying to represent. Well, they’re not all my friends but today, I’ll pretend. Today, I know all the kids beyond seeing their backs in the halls. I know the artsy kids, the nerds, the jocks, the fighters, the lovers and the emos. I know what to expect from each of them: the artsy kids draw quietly while the nerds study. The jocks train and the fighters brawl. The lovers are looking for more but the emo’s are too. All these kids, I’ve heard them, I’ve seen them, but never have I seen a real one.

Once I believed what I heard. I believed that high schoolers should fit into these categories. I believed it was normal for everyone to forcefully fit somewhere. I believed being different meant none of my peers would accept me. I believed the way things are is okay just because there’s nothing someone like me could do.

On my first day of high school I was expecting to be either slotted or pushed aside. I thought I’d show up and see all the groups, none of which I’d fit. I told myself if it was okay. I told myself all I had to do was survive the next four years. 

I was wrong.

I made this friend. They were multiple kids. They were an artsy kid, a nerd and a lover. They were kind and tried, but they never fit in. All their life, they’d tried to be one with a world that’s perpetually on a different wavelength and it made them so tired. With a little push, one day they decided to stop. No more striving for strangers' love. No more pleasing the parents. No more morphing between ill fitting molds. 

The day they stopped trying to fit in with the high schoolers they’d heard about was the day they were freed. 

Their first day of freedom made them proud. That day they showed up with an undercut and rainbow striped sweatpants. They showed up looking more beautiful than anyone I’d seen. They showed up as themselves. 

At first, it was hard for them to be one hundred percent true because now everyone knew that they didn’t fit. Some praised them for being different, called them beautiful and brave, but others told them how weird they were, they pointed out how little they belonged. Monday was the first day they were them, but by Friday they were done. They came to me, their throat burning with tears they’d been taught not to shed and they asked me, “Why?”

Why does being true come at such a price? Why is it taboo to be you? Why does no one say our differences are beautiful and mean it? Why do we all try to fit into a broken puzzle? Why me? Why my world? Why is my life that of the friend I’ve been pretending not to be? Why can’t we all be free? I can’t stop asking why, because when I do I’ll go back to being the morphing jigsaw piece. 

I can’t go back. I can’t be the friend who fits, not again, I don’t want to be. I want to stay me. I want to stay free.

Don’t I sound silly. Now you see why I’m the angsty, emo teen. 

I’m sorry my writing’s ending here. I wanted to do so much more with this. I wanted to reveal that I was who I described as my friend in a way that’d make the world listen, but instead, I did it like a teenager, whinny. 

I guess I’ve got a lot to apologize for, after all, look what I’ve made you read. 

Why’d you read this? Why’d you click on this and read all the way through? Why’d you wade through all my crappy metaphors? Maybe it’s a sense of pity or maybe, just maybe it’s because you remember being an emo teen. Could you be just like me?