Please don’t be in such a hurry to grow up. You’re children, and you need to act like it.
You’ve a lot left to learn, and no, I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but you don’t know more than your parents do. You don’t know that life will be so much easier for you once you move out, or that you’ll be a much better person than they were. Life isn’t easy for them – it never was – and life won’t be easy for you.
I say this because I, at one point, was just like you. I promised myself that I wouldn’t make the same mistakes the grownups made – that the dissolution of my parents’ marriage and the yelling and screaming I was subjected to as a child wouldn’t affect me.
You can probably tell how that turned out.
See, what your parents don’t tell you – and they probably should, for good measure – is that you’re an idiot. You could be the smartest girl in your class (god knows I felt like I was so many times in the past), and you could be the one talking in front of all of your batch mates at graduation, and it wouldn’t matter, because regardless of who you are, and where you’ve been, you will suck at life.
There are people who seem to have gotten the hang of it, at the very least. They don’t cry at weddings or post post-breakup angst on social media. They don’t get needlessly angry at that old man who takes ten fucking minutes at the ATM when fifteen people are waiting in line after him. They don’t lay awake at night thinking about how different life would’ve or could’ve been, had they acted any differently in the past.
But those people are lying. Lucky streaks don’t last forever, and the truth is, that’s all they have: insane luck. At some point, further down the road, maybe tomorrow or next week, something shitty is going to happen to them – something so shitty they’ll finally accept that puta I’m not cut out for this.
That’s what life does to you. It keeps throwing shit at you until you slip on a turd and lose your cool, then it laughs at you because you look like a doofus getting upset over something so easy to clean up. Then you realize you were being petty and hose yourself off and get back to trudging, with life right behind you readying a sack of manure for its next attack.
That, dear children, is the real world. The real world is a hell full of responsibilities and bills to pay and debts you owe and hours to work. The real world is being yelled at by your bosses for mistakes they made. The real world is having enough money to buy that new console but not having any time to play on it.
In the real world, heartbreak is amplified as you become more and more aware of how the clock is ticking for you (if you’re a girl, at least. If you’re a boy, it pretty much doesn’t mean shit to you still). In the real world, you can’t just ask your folks for money, because you’re older now and they’ve accomplished their duties as parents to help you survive until college graduation. In the real world, you’re not special. You’re just another clueless kid who couldn’t wait to grow up.
The worst part is, in the real world, you can’t mask your stupidity with anything. If you mess up out here (and god knows you will), you’ve got no excuse. You’re not a kid anymore, you should know better by now. And people will stop at nothing to let you know that you’re an idiot. There’s no mincing words anymore – that shit’s for sissies. You done goofed, and you’d better own up to it.
So just stop. Stop whining about your parents not taking you seriously, or about being too young to drink. Growing up won’t change that first bit (nobody will take you seriously, I swear), and there will be plenty more reasons for you to drown yourself in alcohol after college, so just let your liver enjoy the last few years of its health. Stop looking for boyfriends or girlfriends or both – you’re twelve, Jesus Christ, you can’t even type words out completely. Stop complaining about how much high school sucks, you’re going to miss that shit when you go to college, and you’ll miss college when you start working (been there, and there is a void left in my heart where full-time education used to be).
Of course, I know you’re not going to listen to me. I’m just another one of those bitter, out-of-touch grownups who like ragging on them cool younguns cause they’re so different. I know that’s how I felt when my high school teachers told us to enjoy high school, and when our college professors did the same.
But believe me. Five or ten years from now you’ll be lying awake at night, thinking about how different life would’ve or could’ve been, had you just listened to that pottymouth on the internet.
Originally posted on Tumblr on Nov 5th 2013