The Year of Hibernation

Suddenly, I felt like a teenager again.

It’s like a gush of wind — liberating me from the monotonous practicality I have exercised. Having those feelings is something else; something different, because truthfully, I never had the luxury to experience this thing called being a ‘teenager’.

The epiphany happened while I was washing dirty dishes. The dishes were not mine. The house was not even mine. I didn’t have those things that are called ‘mine’. And I want one, even as simple as ‘teenage years’. That’s why I decided to grab it; I didn’t want to waste feelings. Let’s just say, I didn’t want to throw away my shot.

But what was this thing I keep on desiring? What does it take to have authentic sense of being a ‘teenager’?

Seriously, I don’t know. But isn’t being teenager means not knowing? Having these strange things happen inside of you — outside of you. The acceptance of oneself that our mothers keep on telling us is negated by this certain phase of life. And now is the time for you to know these mysteries. You finally have the excuse to try new things. You are sandwiched between a body of an adult and of a child. Being a teenager means ambiguity. The only time where you don’t need to stand on anything. You can be childish and serious without thinking about other people.

But it’s not a phase.

It shouldn’t be.

I am 20 turning 21. I have listened to my high school playlist more often than not — it’s filled with Arctic Monkeys and Vampire Weekend, can you blame me? — making every day liberating and more mysterious. From my usual classic literature companion, I surprisingly found solace on Young Adult books, which my pretentious past will never ever have the decency to talk about nor touch it. It’s filled with youth and simplicity — how I had missed those sensations. Life now is like a bubble dream of unprecedented love at first sights. I keep on falling in love at every stranger’s peculiarities. I tend to forget their faces, but never the strangeness that made me attached to them (People are like walking art pieces). Foreign affections, foreign events, foreign experiences — the more immoral and socially unacceptable they are, the bigger the possibility of my attraction. I had even found self-acceptance in an art museum. That’s my everyday life. That’s my teenage years.

Okay, I know it’s not the typical high school shit media have been filling us with, but who cares? This is how I think my teenage years should go. I am different and I am starting to accept that.

Being a teenager doesn’t stop on paying bills and getting monthly payrolls. Being a teenager is not the synonym of rebelliousness — it is freedom and recklessness combined.

One thing, adolescent age never age. We are still kids inside waiting to come around and for us to stop acting into socially acceptable beings called as ‘ah-dult’. It never ends. It is a cycle that shouldn’t stop, as this child-like innocence should never leave us. I hate how movies always keep on pertaining towards those young at hearts that only they who can open the closed, magical doors. I want to have that privilege too, and oh, it did good things. I have seen things that normal ‘ah-dult’ can’t see. Now it’s up to you if you’ll consider those as a lion inside a wardrobe, wizard who can make huge-ass fireworks, or just a simple, unadulterated happiness you will never experience one you decided to abandon ever again.

I hope we don’t start seeing the boa constrictor illustration as a lame ass hat. We are more than that.