I guess some things never change. Just overheard this conversation at the gas station and it made me grin.
Teen Girl 1: OMG, I can’t believe we almost forgot the coffee. That’s totally what we came in here for.
Teen Girl 2: I know. We completely spaced. That’s what I do when I write. I just totally space out.
TG1: Yeah, but your poetry is sooooo good. It’s very deep and haunting.
TG2: It’s weird, like it just pours out of me. But I can only write when I’m angry or depressed. (laughs) So pretty much all the time.
TG1: Yeah. Life sucks.
I wish I could’ve told them to enjoy it. That these really are some of the best years of their lives. But then I would’ve been that crazy old lady who doesn’t understand them or their daily struggles. And god forbid I be that person.
It amused me because I was the same way for much of my very young life. I wrote like crazy and all my friends thought (or atleast claimed to think) I wrote such deep, profound, moving things. I look back at some of those poems now and feel a little embarrassed, but mostly just laugh. Those big huge earth-shaking dramas of youth. The teen angst. The forbidden love.
I really was a cliche. I embraced depression. I was melancholy. I wore black. I dressed funny. I rebelled. I was goth before goth was cool dammit.
Now, it’s funny to see that I wasn’t nearly as original as I thought. And these 2 girls aren’t either. It’s a rite of passage that we all go through. And I envy them their journey.