Youth Is Somewhat Wasted On The YoungThursday, February 16, 2012
There's something about viewing youth whilst it's happening to someone else that brings me to blog today.
I've been swamped by routine things plus a revert back to waking up in the mornings has transformed me into a zombie the moment the burning sun starts setting. Forgive me for being away for far too long. The world wide web time passes differently that I guess it's been like 2 years since my last posting. What the heck, here I am.
Where was I? Yes. Youth. The moment you've become the annoying adolescent who has opportunities and possibilities that burn at every corner but being one that's totally unstable yet, you are oblivious.
Let me just start again.
This piece was inspired by a nostalgic moment while I watched a bunch of teenage boys sitting together having lunch at a food court. I was partly idle in a daydream as I munched on some rice. Was it chicken rice? I think it was.
Youth is a magical time because while it seems like it's going to last forever (to the young), it will end. And seen from a perspective of someone who has stepped out of that phase, at least biologically, the ending comes weirdly unexpected. Before you know it, you'll look back to try and trace for that moment in time where it simply vanishes. You can't go back. At least, not without a functional time machine.
It seems like yesterday you were that obnoxious/moody teen. Or that happy-go-lucky consequence-blind drifter who survived on smokes and cokes alone.
Now you're here. At the brink of something you've yet to grasp because mentally you picture yourself as that teenager. But present moment reveals something mind-blowingly so unlike that youth you once were. Something is up somewhere in the nooks and crannies of your subconscious and it's changing you. You can feel it, can't you?
You're not overly mood dependent. It's alright if you don't get to eat McDonald's strawberry sundae everyday. The seemingly random swings of emotions now don't seem so random; it's the time of the month, or someone uttered a sentence that bruised your ego oh so badly.
You don't take superficial emotional wounds too seriously to the point of unloading gut-wrenching emotional outbursts in a diary or Facebook. You don't sleep in the shower anymore.
There is simply no good reason to feel that bad even as life gets life-draining. All seems peachy in that very grounded sort of way. What gives?
I do not wish to go back in time where emotions have always had the upper hand. The blooming adolescence is a hazardous time. It is a rite of passage as they easily call it but it is a risky gamble. It's a time where your heart gets broken only to be fixed again and then broken till you hopefully learn a lesson.
Every little interaction or conversation has the power to propel you in any given direction and with barely an acknowledgment, ideas can be tossed aside like silly fashion trends. Youth is rightfully fickle. It's a time so free that you hold multiple ideas of your self based on point of views of third parties.
Fortunately though, while I age biologically, I feel younger than I have ever was. I thank my fickle youth, people who stood by me even when I was loony, writers and authors that made me feel less loony and my lucky stars, suns and planets, cats and tortoises.
Teenager Painting by Mukesh Mandal
Rainbow Roots by Chelsea Rose Art
Restless Mind Painting by Yosief Indrias
shanaz@RS | 11:21 PM | Labels: my reverie spills