Fluorescent Adolescent
If I have to blame one thing to keep my hands clean from the mess and dumb decisions I have made in my teenage years, Alex Turner singing Fluorescent Adolescent with a clown costume, all the fingers are pointed at you.
As long as the history files in my mind are valid, it was all begun from listening to a song and then another version of me was born.
Music almost always has the key to my soul, or maybe it controlled mine. The empty room was once filled with the crazy girl fanbase, then we got a huge deal to do a renovation for the first time. It was not easy to let go of my favorite and comfort stuff. Courage, pain, and sincerity are the foundation for the changes, 1307, we stack them in that room.
The second phase was a mediocre transition. Nothing fun, except I embraced my hatred towards Indonesian songs. I tried to accept it without judging too much, and eventually I love it. We did not put ‘em in a room though, just a small locker is enough.
The turning phase was when I had this vision in my mind, that I am my own star, I own the spotlight, and I am the director of my story. Surprisingly, my life actually went that way, and that was the time we fell in the fluorescent lights of adolescence and Fluorescent Adolescent by Arctic Monkeys.
We got lost in the track without a rational mind in company until we did not have any room left, nor a locker. We needed the whole house to keep them tidy. So many new things made me eager to dive deeper in this personality the music gave me. Maybe we were too comfortable? I do not know. One thing for sure, it was really fun and wild. The lights were blinding, but I closed my eyes. Who needs eyes when your gut is calm enough to let it all happen?
The paint got darker, at first, I loved it since my favorite color has always been black, but something caught me up in the darkness. The fluorescent lights that were my center of life started to piss me off. I tried to bury them with my old stuff, but the sparkles radiated everywhere. No matter how hard I tried to overcome them, it did not work out. And I ended up in an agonizing dark room with raging lights but zero adolescence to be seen.
Was I alone? No. The door and windows were opened by themselves, letting people in. Do I know them? Absolutely not. I was barely capable of introducing myself as the host since the lights were blinding me, they outshined me.
Me and my soul were driven apart because there was no room left for us to have a connection. Everything was so crowded that the only option I had was to lay on the broken moldy files. I became someone I never knew, when I looked in the mirror, all I saw was emptiness and disgust. The girl I used to praise was no longer there. What should I do with the zombie I have become?
Music turned its back to me, I was not fond of any kind of melody, even the one that saved innocent memories. It feels like a breakup, you know? Me and my soul lost our bond, and the room, the locker, the phase are now just some junks. Junks that cannot be returned or repaired. I have wasted my time under the fluorescent light, and my adolescent was tired of keeping up. Later then, I finally decided to move out.
Now I am in a brand-new home, all clean and fresh. Will my soul make up with me and start all over again hand-in-hand? Only one can dream.
One thing for sure, I do not hate my old house. It was my home, and sometimes, I’d love to reminisce the loaded emotions and trauma it kept. With laughs and tears as my gear, I make peace with the zombie in me.
P.s. I still adore you, Alex.
