A few years ago, I stumbled upon a book resting on a shelf in my house. It was titled “The Angry Teenager” or something along those lines. I looked at it and laughed. Who was this Angry Teenager the book was trying to inform my parents about? I knew it wasn’t me. At the age of fourteen I was an innocent, go-lucky child who could do no wrong. As time passed, the Angry Teenage began to rear its ugly head.
I live with my father and my younger brother; my mother has been deceased since 2008. Its a pretty masculine household, I must say. Toilet seats are constantly left up, it seems like the only channels that exist on tv are the sports channels, and the only emotion allowed is anger (mostly from my dad). Me and my dad are pretty similar; we think alike, so that also means we argue.
And it was only till I hit the age of 17 that I became the Angry Teenager. Something changed, a switch in my brain was flipped or something, because I had never felt so defiant and against my parent in my entire life. Right now, I feel like I know it all, and my dad is just on some period that’s been lasting for months! Months!
A lot of people tell me its just a stage, I’ll get over it, I’ll realize my dad was always in the right, and I was being stupid. Yeah, yeah, whatever. Right now I want to go to parties, hang out late, and do whatever a normal teenager does. It’s like my old man is trying to tell me that I’m supposed to be tucked in nice and safe at 9:00 every Saturday night. Um, no. In fact, let’s take a look at his adolesence. He grew up on a small island known as Antigua. Granted, the island was smaller than some cities in America, and everybody practically knew everybody, but Antigua is known for having some pretty crazy parties. Pretty crazy. I know for a fact that my dad was out partying late at the age of 14. And its also no secret that the man was sexually active at my age! Well, I mean most teens are nowadays, but that doesn’t matter.
Now, let’s take a look at myself. I am a honors student with a 3.8 GPA; I haven’t gotten into any kind of trouble at school; I participate in clubs and sports teams at my school; I stay clean of alcohol and drugs; I am a virgin; adults love me; my friend’s are upstanding teenagers; and I’m currently looking for a part-time job.
Here are my negatives: I have a messy room; I suck at doing the laundry; I avoid the dishes like the plague; I’m known to back talk; and one time I had a boy over without permission (I learned from that mistake).
Um, I think I’m a pretty decent kid! If I were a parent, I wouldn’t mind raising a kid like me (that’s a lie). But anyway, the only reason I’m writing this blog is because I went from feeling like an adult to a toddler, all in a matter of 3 seconds. I’ve been out and about filling out job applications, and all of sudden I can’t go to party that starts at 11 and is around the corner from my house. Sheesh. I contemplate sneaking out, but I value my life way too much. I feel like being a brat and doing something reckless, like smoking marijuana or something. But I know I’m just butt-hurt.
Being a teenager sucks. It’s like human limbo. You’re not a child anymore, but you’re sure as hell not an adult. You want adult things (car, job, freedom), but you still have to depend on an adult (food, clothing, shelter, money, everything else). It’s a hard road, and I am that Angry Teenager. But I’m not the only Angry Teenager, and I won’t be the last. My brother’s angry years are around the corner. I’m just tired of butting heads with my dad. He’s either yelling or nagging, and he has no conception of how unstable female feelings can be.
But all this means that I’m growing up; I’m just not a grown up. I’m not going to give up on that party though. (I might end up not even going, but best believe I’m not staying my butt at home).