I don’t know how to be a young person. I never have. I remember being a teenager. I remember being mouthy and unreasonable but, I never remember doing the stupid expected teenager things. I didn’t sneak booze out of my parents house. I didn’t break curfew – heck, I didn’t even have a curfew. I didn’t get grounded. I didn’t wear belly shirts and microshorts, and get sent upstairs to change.
I was always known as the “good” child – the responsible one – because acting young was never on my priority list.
Now, I just wonder if there is a glitch in my software.
I do a lot of thinking about consequences. Consequences of my actions, my words, my decisions. Young people are not supposed to think about consequences, but I find myself constantly considering them – I always have.
I do not understand many other young people. I don’t understand what drives them. I don’t understand their ability to think only of today and not of the days that follow. Maybe, I am just too old and boring for my own age.
With my older sisters being mostly grown when I was growing up, it was only me and my parents for a lot of my childhood. I never really spent time with kids my age. I didn’t really consider myself to be young, even as a child, because I’ve always felt like a fifty year old stuffed inside of newer model.
So, in a way – it’s a relief for me to be getting older.
Finally, I am starting to understand more of the people in my age bracket because there is less talk of keg stands and more talk of careers and college loans. For a old soul like me, I can relate to that – responsibility is a sexy thing.
And by the time that I finally figure out being young, I’ll probably be too old to appreciate it.