It is now a few hours in. I sit here, at my desk, in the room that I have lived in for 18 years straight. I’m drunkish. I’m tiredish. I’m listening to the Beatles to feel all nostalgic. Although this music was out a good few decades before I was even conceived, it holds value in my own life. My eyes were blue when I was born. My hair was also blond. This chair sucks.
Wait. This isn’t right yet. I don’t know why. This is my last day as a teenager. It’s on my mind. I don’t like it. I guess that I’m a lot more afraid of growing up than I thought I was. Can you blame me though? Let’s be honest here, despite all of my complaining, I have lived a pretty nice life. Especially my teen years. Maybe that’s just because I’m still 19 and this and that and that. It is only a number.
Still, these numbers have been kind to me. My life is perfect. It is perfectly how I truly want it. I’ve always imagined since as long as my memory goes, that my life is a story. I’ve always wondered if this part or that part would look good in a movie with this or that song playing as the background track. I’ve always dreamed of putting on this vast show for all to see and love and feel good about and be inspired and all of those nice things that people can sometimes be capable of feeling. Freud could see it this way, and a psychiatrist today would prescribe me some of that good shit that just numbs you down to nothing more than a vegetable that response to commands. Fuck that. I’ve got until midnight tonight to get all of the teenage angst I’ve got left to summon to wield with how I choose.
So here goes. When I was thirteen, I was religious. I had never kissed a girl in my entire life. The Beatles were however, my favorite band. I had never heard of Iona College. I had no idea where Bay Ridge was. I used to wear this Grateful Dead hat every single day. I wore my Rolling Stones t-shirt every other day. I wore my Let It Be shirt all of the other days. I was quite. I was awkward. I was thirteen.
Coming in the top five for the All Time Greatest Memories of One Brian Edward Sears Jr. would be my first time kissing a girl outside of my rival high school. It was April and I was 15. Yes, my first kiss was at 15. But that’s not the point. Her name was Monica, that’s the point. She was something else man. I tried to learn this song by Hellogoodbye for so long because I knew that she liked it. She was a singer. She was an actress. In fact, it was outside of Arlington auditorium after I saw her in Les Mis that it all happened. She was still in costume. The sun was setting. I felt like John Cusack, even I didn’t know who he was then. My sister yelled at me the whole ride home after she picked me up. I didn’t give a fuck. Somebody else liked me man… that was all I needed.
I haven’t seen her in years. She hated me for awhile, but I assume she hardly remembers me. I smoked pot when I was seventeen. I lost my virginity at 18. I met a sweet girl in between those two that I really should have tried for sooner. I’ve, in the words of Mike Ritz, got it in with, pinned, radurgadeeged, or bodabeeped 1/6th of a dozen girls since I lost my virginity. I guess that’s just a fun fact, in case you were wondering.
I did shrooms when I was 19. That was pretty cool. I started smoking cigarettes when I was 18. I guess that was kind of stupid. I’m going to buy a pack of Camels tomorrow, just because that’s what I started on. I did whiskey shots and bought Newports yesterday. I got less than 24 hours man.
So now what? I’ve babbled because I couldn’t think of anything that was worth saying and seven hundred and seventeen words later, I’ve got nothing. I guess I’m scared. I have two years left of college. My dad gave me the application to apply to take the test for the New York City Fire Department exam today. I’ll be taking the Yonkers test too. My mom was asking me about internships this morning. I’ve been doing 8 hours at WacArnold’s for the last like five fucking days. My back hurts. I wish more than anything that this one girl would talk to me like we used to. I have no money. This song is killing any type of good writing. I should change it.
There we go. That is much better.
This is all just a stage. We are in the amber of the moment. Part of me feels like I should shed the mindset of the last few years. Just let go of the aspirations of love and success that a kid dreams up, and just do the adult thing and get realistic. But I saw on the Science channel that our reality is merely an act of observation and that we create out reality.
And in the spirit of creating things, I shall also nurture. When I was twelve I didn’t say fuck all that shit I learned from when I was in diapers. I was like “Yeah, fuck yeah man. I’m a teenager, fuck you. I can curse and I’ll be able to drive soon and I could almost buy cigarettes if I wanted to. Fuck you.”
Fuck you man. I shall not grow up; I will only disguise my childish motives in this growing body. The mind will grow too, but in a way better way. I don’t think it will get hairy or anything like that. I’ve spent my entire life thinking about things, so I can only guess that I will keep that routine up. Why break the habit? I still think about all of the things I always have and can only just pick up new things. I still think about Monica. I still think about you, the sweet girl from that place I like oh so much. If you do actually read this, which I hope you do, I just want you to know that I just have warm memories that I thank you for. I won’t try to do anything; I just want to thank you for keeping my soul alive. I don’t care if you didn’t mean or want to, because you did and I’m grateful. You can take it as a passing compliment if you like.
I’m going to have a cigarette. I’ll be back to wrap this up.
I was thinking about reading this over for mistakes, but that would be the grown up thing to do and I am not going to do that. I won’t read this until Monday. If there are typos and what not, I don’t care. Even after I read it I won’t edit it. I won’t even edit it if it’s ever published.
I will say goodnight because it is dark now as I’m writing this. I will say good morning or good day for whatever other time this may be read. I’ll see you on the other side, my friends.
radurgadeegadology 