Becoming the “New Adults”

For the past few days, I’ve been sitting at my computer trying to write this blog with nothing in my head. It’s not writer’s block, though. You give me a prompt, and I’ll give you 1,500 words minimum — I’ll write a poem three pages long with a beautiful rhyme scheme too. It’s not that I can’t write — it’s just that I’ve never been given so much creative freedom before. I just wish I could have more freedom in other parts of my life too.

I often find myself thinking about the dynamics of teenagers and adults when in reality, I should be doing my algebra homework. Grown folks see us teenagers as kids and treat us as such. We’re obviously annoyed and we try to defend ourselves against them, usually resulting in some sort of punishment. Phone privileges taken, grounded, or even a smack somewhere. I feel like I’m wrongfully persecuted sometimes.

It’s not that we want to be little pricks, we just want to be recognized as real people. Me and my friends see each other as individuals that can take care of ourselves while being respectful and giving a helping hand. I even see that with other teenagers I don’t know. The way they watch their surroundings, use their money, and even being resistant to changes they know is wrong.

When I say teenagers want to be recognized as real people, I’m not saying that all of us are being treated like garbage. What I mean is for us to be taken seriously. Our mental health, our grief, and our insecurities. Whenever I get upset, I don’t want to be called sensitive, emotional, or hormonal — and if I do get upset, I don’t want anyone mad at me for having emotions. That’s so belittling.

When I was 13, I had to process grief — alone. It had hit me like a freight train, no warning, no goodbyes. I had lost my dog who had grown up with me and was my best friend. I’m not sure how I did it, but I got up the very next day and went to school like nothing had happened that Sunday morning. If I cried, I’d be called weak. If I tried to isolate myself, I would be perceived as disrespectful or rude. 

This obviously affected my mental health negatively. I was lonely and social media told me everyone was doing better than me. They had more money, clearer skin, healthy/long hair, a nice body, and even the love of their life. Everything I had been wanting or wasn’t even aware that would be essential to me later in life was being presented to me and left me feeling humiliated. I grew insecure, anxious, and easily provoked overtime.

I know the people reading this can definitely relate to the feeling of being insecure or anxious. I know my audience may have been in a situation where they were spoken for or talked at instead of talked to. Which is why I thought of writing this blog.

I’m not trying to bash people with a fully developed frontal lobe but cut us some slack. We’re not asking for a million dollars, we just want full independence, freedom to express ourselves and trust that we’ll be okay on our own. If someone spoke for an adult even though they are capable to talk themselves, the adult would grow frustrated and eventually lash out — it’s no different from people in adolescence.

Before I end this blog, I just wanted to add that I feel like we live in a Peanuts parody — me and other people my age. For those of you who don’t know, I’m sure you’re all familiar with Snoopy and Charlie Brown from your childhoods —The beagle who can literally do anything and his bald-headed owner.

I say that we live in a Peanuts parody because the children are the main characters of the show, not the adults. The kids get to control the atmosphere and plot while the adults are in the background. Speaking of the adults in Peanuts, they sound like trombones or some kind of brass instrument whenever they speak and I think that really supports the point of the show, which is giving kids their own voice, space to exist and time to learn.

Author: Maryana

Literary Junior at MSA View all posts by Maryana