In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Only Sixteen.”
Bordering on adulthood, and yet tied down by childhood fetishes. Considered by most to be the worst age of a person’s life, and yet, this age probably is the age where development begins. So…what exactly is this life? Depression and gloominess? Or wild night-outs and first loves? Or just an over-hyped phase of life where one can’t really fit in anywhere?
Back when I was twelve or thirteen, sixteen seemed like a good age to start living the life I had always wanted to have. A time when going out to just ‘hang out’ wouldn’t be a restriction. A time when I’d have more to talk about with friends, rather than just homework and class assignments. Now that I’m here, I look back to the naive twelve year old me, and shake my head in despair.
At a time when I expected to find acceptance, I find a myriad of people, all with their own selfish motives and their own mind games. Sugar-coated words and a dagger into the back. Hushed tears which no one seems to see, and broken smiles which everyone takes for granted.
At a time when falling in love seemed like a fantasy, all I find are boys who are pathetic excuses of well…a good guy. Haha. Not to go too hard on these guys, because some of them are awesome. But at this age, when people expect to fall for someone, my heart simply doesn’t want it. It’s tired of bleeding and opening up and trusting and being betrayed. It wants to keep to itself.
At a time when I thought I’d have the best of times with the best of friends, all I find now are betrayers lurking around the corners. Yes, true friends exist, but they are rare, and the fear of losing a true friend is always greater that the happiness in finding someone who’ll always be by your side.
At a time when it is expected to have everything sorted out, I’m drowned in a myriad of paradoxes. I’m an introvert with a wild side, a caring heart with a selfish interior, an over-thinker who often loves to act on impulse, and humble yet frank.
At an age where I thought that I’d finally belong somewhere, I find it difficult to fit in. Not an adult, neither a child, what exactly am I? Just a random nobody floating in between the notions of society, tied down by expectations and yet ready to do anything to find happiness.
[P.S. In case you haven’t already figured out, yes, I am sixteen. And don;t worry, I’m not as depressed as this post makes it out to be. I’m just in a bad mood rn and today’s prompt was very suitable for some venting.]