Surviving those teen years
It has been proven that teenage years are the most confusing for any individual.
I would love to be able to share my rebellious teenage misdeeds, but sadly, there are none. I was, what one would call, a good kid. I had a decent set of grades, a dream of becoming a surgeon cum bass player and an inability to maintain my composure at the slightest hint of humour.
I spent my days running around in pointless circles, arranging concerts and painting 60-square-foot play backdrops that no one would ever see again after opening night. With the boys I played music, basketball and poker – not spin the bottle. Drugs were Panadols, and alcohol was the foul-smelling stuff in the labs. That, however, did not rescue me from the brainlessness that accompanies teenage years.
I spent way too much time on the above-mentioned sports fields and musical stages; missed a handful of college deadlines and did a number of other things that still have me wondering if some of those Panadols had, in fact, contained other substances.
About six months after the end of school, the end of our lives and the beginnings of actually living, friends one swore to speak to every night morphed into acquaintances. Till-death-do-us-part still exists but it is more like till World Call crashes and Skype stops working.
To my confused, emotionally charged fellows, I can only say this: If I have learnt anything in this ‘gap year’ from my education it’s … well I’ll tell you when I figure it out myself.
For now, I can just say that it’s alright to not know what you want to major in, it’s okay if your college list doesn’t contain five Ivy Leagues, and it’s not a problem to have your tongue hanging out and to be walking in zigzags all the time.
It’s excellent if you do have it all figured out, just don’t let your college list, your college major or your inability to walk in a straight line define you.
In the end, if you get through it in one piece still being yourself, then that’s better than what most people manage.
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