When I read about becoming a teenager in books when I was a child, I only thought my life would become easier. Now I am 16 years old and know exactly that everything I thought would happen is bullshit. Let me make one thing perfectly clear: I don’t live in a war zone, I am lucky enough to have parents who can afford to feed me and in general many would describe my so called “problems” as me just bitching around and not appreciating the things granted to me.

Fortune tellers and metamorphosis

Whenever I tend to complain about certain aspects of my life, my parents or older people will tell me “You don’t know how lucky you are.” What is that supposed to mean? What should I do with that? It’s a nice sentence and it is probably true, but I just don’t get why complaining is a bad thing – it’s not like I whine about my life all the time, I just like to state the obvious.

Why do I have to know exactly what job I want to have 10 years from now?

Why is school seen as one big test of your intelligence when really all it does is test your memory?

Why is it expected of me to act like a grownup when people treat me like a child?

These are just a handful of the question I ask myself everyday. As a teen, my thoughts usually go into the direction of the future, as I am confronted with issues like what I want to do after high school every day. How the fuck am I supposed to know about my future? Do I look like a fortune teller? Is the phrase “fortune teller” just a synonym for “person who has everything figured out”? Goals are fine, but surely there must be more to a healthy life than planning out every single step?

Growing up is hard. With all the physical changes your body is going through in the early stages, I feel like we deserve a medal. Well done, you finally have breasts and hair in places you didn’t know was possible, would you like fries with that? Of course with all the hormones rushing through our bodies, flesh and blood, teenagers, especially teenage girls, are seen as “emotional” and “dramatic” – hold your damn horses. I just went through a full metamorphosis and you’re judging me for being a little moody from time to time?

Sunshine, rainbows and Skittles


Calling adolescence an illness or a disease is just complete nonsense. Dear person who thinks he/she knows everything there is to know about teenagers: Can’t you remember what it was like to be young? I know this to be a frequently asked question and I confess to asking my parents this question every time an argument comes up. Something about the question always seems to trigger a chain of feelings in my parents, because they have never given me a direct answer to that simple question. Maybe they’re just offended because I indirectly called them old, but my spidey-sense is telling me there’s more to it. I guess it’s just in my nature to question everything and everyone around me.

I guess I’m just anxious of what will come. I know that it won’t be all sunshine and rainbows, but I hope that I will be able to find my place. Because right now I’m scattered all over the place, like when you drop bag of Skittles. I’m not the bag that holds everything together; I’m the content of the bag that couldn’t wait to flee. I guess the whole Skittles story is just a metaphor for my life: My parents are the bag and I am desperately trying to gain independence by freeing myself from the restricting container that once was my home. Now I’m lying all over the floor, having feelers out in every direction but nothing happens. No epiphany, no lightbulb and no clue where to go. I can just hope that some day the sun will peak through.





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