Restlessness

It really sucks being a teenager. Not for the obvious reasons--not because we're treated like crap by discriminating adults and law enforcement, or because of high school drama. No, the reason it sucks to be a teenager is because we can't do anything.

Sure, we can see our friends. When we get a license, we can drive around the city. We can pace back and forth in our bedrooms, too, if we so choose. But beyond that, it just sucks.

We can't get really good jobs to pay for the things we want. Hell, in my city, kids my age can't even find jobs. There are hundreds and hundreds of stores and restaurants and yet the number of eligible positions is next to nothing. All the college kids and young adults get the good ones. We end up sweating at Taco Bell or Target until the day we graduate...

We can't go anywhere beyond the local limits. I live in the northeastern corner of my city, which consequently means that there are two other cities all within walking distance, the three sections meeting at one particular intersection. But beyond those three towns, I'm trapped. Can't go anywhere. Can't even venture that far within those three cities because then we're "too far." Even when I do get my own license and I stop relying on Aphrie and Disko to drive me around, I won't be going far. I'm just stuck.

We can't make our own decisions. Sure, we'd like to think we do--but we don't. The only decisions we get credit for are the ones that turn out to be mistakes. Adults take credit for the rest of them. I know we're just so unwise and inexperienced that the idea of us thinking for ourselves is mind-blowing, but I think we could handle it. Most likely.

We don't get to choose the way we spend our time. School, tedious and ridiculous, consumes most of our day. Our afternoons are necessary extra-curriculars that we need to get into college. Evenings and nights are homework, not to mention trying to stay in touch with our own families. Weekends are projects and more extra-curriculars and housework if our parents ask. Breaks are homework and family celebrations [loved but plentiful] and the occasional sleeping-in days. Even SUMMER has been taken over by schoolwork--this year, I had to read three books and a play, write three essays, and do seven chapters of Spanish vocabulary.

DO I LOOK LIKE A HOMEWORK MACHINE?

Sorry. Lost control there. Anyway, our time isn't ours. It doesn't belong to us. Unwillingly, we've sold our souls to EVERYONE ELSE, and they're going to make sure we don't forget it.

Of course I want to get good grades and do extra-curriculars--I want to go to college and get a good job. Of course I want to help around the house and talk to my family--they're my family, for Pete's sake. And of course I want to do all the things that are expected of kids my age; I want a job. I want a car. I want my license. I want to make enough money to pay for college.

But do I look like some sort of preternatural creature with the ability to do everything at once?

Adults have to realize that teenagers are TRYING. We are TRYING to do everything you ask. Teachers and administrators, we're TRYING. Parents and relatives, we're TRYING. Employers and co-workers, we're TRYING as hard as we can.

If fact, we're trying harder than we can. That's why we're always tired. That's why we treasure the precious days when we get to sleep until noon. We're running ourselves ragged, and for once, it's not our fault.

Don't give me any lecture about "preparing for the real world." This is the real world. This is OUR world. It couldn't be more real than it already is. And we know that it's going to suck. We know that the future doesn't look bright and sunshiney. But we're doing our best, okay?

Let us experiment with jobs. Let us adventure just a little bit farther than your comfort level allows. Let us make our own choices. Let us control our own time, our days and minutes and years. Let us grow up. Let us be.

We can do it, I promise you. We can prioritize. You've shown us the possible paths, you've given us your opinions on all of them--let us choose one. We're not stupid--some teenagers are, and if you have a brain, you can pick them out. But let those of us with brains make our own choices. Please.

It's my life. My world. My dreams, my hopes, my fears, my independence, my reality. Let me make of it what I will.