The Children, in this case, are teenagers and pre-teens.
First, I alienated that mall stranger, then grown men, and now the poor, poor children. It's usually done with reflective intentions. My life's purpose is to serve justice, balance, and/or resolve in whatever macro or minute ways possible. If I need to highlight how certain people are the absolute worst to accomplish that, I will. Today, we fix the children.
When you're a teenager, it feels like there are no consequences for your general state of disregard. In a sense, there really aren't, because a couple of things, you learn later, are well recognized amongst everyone else. The gist of it is that there's an influx of emotions and hormones you're trying to sort through and oftentimes, that can translate outwardly as rage, unhinged vigor, or complete withdrawal.
There's an understanding that you're shrouded in insecurity, very uncertain, and generally oblivious to the actuality of being. Somehow, this very messy time in life is also when most people first reign in their backbone for authority—over themselves and/or others—sometimes it's an utter failure, but teenagers always try. Amongst that mess, nobody understands you; you're having the most fun or the absolute worst time, and miserable adults or clueless children are only getting in your way. There's the recipe for chaos.
Reckless is synonymous with Teenager and human parents and/or caretakers trying their best, yet constantly making genuine mistakes are left responsible for facilitating their balance.
That all being said, I don't care. Children are weird, especially because they're right below me. There's an unsaid arrangement in life where psychologically we're inclined to dislike whatever is right above or below whatever standing is in question. It's evident everywhere: generationally, professionally, familial and school settings, etc.
There's something about being right at the cusp of the power someone else holds, where it's difficult to fully respect their standing. Most times you're directly crossing paths, so what's so special about what they have going on? You're right there anyway.
But then, switch perspectives, there's the superior who wants their little bit of respect from whoever ranks right below. You've earned it. You've been through their position and should be seen as such—someone who has surpassed them.
That, in essence, is why I'm sick of teenagers. Not all of them, obviously. I know and I continue to meet some exceptional teenagers. However, been there, done that, a handful of years back. It's a fun time, but it's also a very ridiculous time. So here are some ways you need to relax, chill out, or whatever you'd say.
I Am Definitely Not Your Potential Girlfriend.
Recently, a child, in collaboration with his group of children, found an...interesting...way to inform me that my jeans looked good on me. My soul left my body...straight to hell. Platonically, I can take it. I've previously encouraged everyone to hand out compliments to people like Christmas presents—platonically. I would like to clarify: Don't do it on my call if it's not platonic, but if you have to, just keep it within your age group. There will be fewer court cases and needs for acid baths that way.
What can I say, I don't enjoy the idea of jail, but I definitely don't enjoy potentially babysitting my partner. I am definitely an old, old soul—or a mom soul. Whatever that "my soul does not reflect my body" crap means would be my stance here—because I am definitely not interested. I'm your mom for now and, maybe, ever. Thanks.
Be Mindful of Yourself.
Especially because half of you look older than me. I wouldn't know to dismiss your behavior as a simple teenage mistake??? You don't want me manifesting negative vibes just for you on a Saturday afternoon.
In those moments when you're out and a barrage of children are out as well—as they should—but being a nuisance, it just hits you: somebody needs to son this person. They need to live in Nigeria for like, a year. There's no need for this person to be shooting a TikTok right where I'm supposed to be walking, whereby myself and the thirty people behind me are now awkwardly winding our way through the little space that's left. There's also no need for all one hundred of you to walk in one long, horizontal line. I walk faster than you, I'm faster than everyone, and we all—except you, clearly—have an agenda to follow through with. Would you like me to shove my way through? I'm unsure.
Just...get it together. I don't mind you or what you have going on. I'm just trying to live as well. So, when people are trying to speak to you or exist around you, curtail being senseless or rattling off some senselessness with the utmost confidence. More power to you, because you're going to need that bravado sometime soon, but just, read the room. No one cares. It's usually not that innovative or interesting—funny, though? yes.
All You're Doing is Putting Our Lives into Perspective.
Or, at least, mine. I sort of just transitioned out of where you're at, by biological standards, so it's hitting close to home. I definitely now agree that I was an entitled, brat menace. Yes.
To all my teachers, supervisors, and anyone else who had to experience my being during those eight-ish years, I say I'm just so sorry. I kind of knew then that I should be, although I was too stubborn, but now I'm shameless and have gathered the power of hindsight. I'm sorry.
I Am Definitely Not Wearing Your Clothes.
I already had my time for dictated nonsense. This is the time for me to dress and wear my hair the way that I find appropriate—minimal outside influence. I'm in my 20s, it's the menace after your menace. That being said I apologize once again—this time in advance—to everyone in my present life. This is all part of the life cycle. Still to come is the dirty (and depressed) thirties, middle-aged menace, and beyond.
On that 20s note, I'm choosing not to serve this new "grandma slay" you've decided is the look of now—I'll wait till I'm there. I'm also keeping the side part. It's cute. Except for those scary side parts that happen at 3/4th of the head—I agree: no, Brittany. It's always a Brittany.
Of course, we excuse the scene parts, those are different, they're more so social commentary—an uprising of sorts. They can stay.
Unfortunately, We Can't All Have TikTok.
Again, I'm in my 20s. I can not care about TikTok and it's very cool and okay and hot. No, I'm not heartbroken that I didn't know "pink, pink, pink, girls, girls, girls..." and whatever the rest of the lyrics are when it was cooler. I'll like it when I want.
But even if I wasn't in my 20s—and I know you definitely don't want those people running your app, else we get Facebook all over—it's another social media app that often finds its content making its way to Youtube and Instagram if you're paying enough attention. Everything will be okay.
You're Actually Pretty Cool when it Comes Down to It.
With all that bashing I've done, I truly don't mind you for the most part. I think you're creative, in a way that's so appropriate for you. You're fun and you're funny. You're figuring it all out, and you have to deal with all of our pent-up micro-aggressions all the time, so you're doing a fantastic job pulling through. I can empathize.
It's just that in your 20s, you're kind of "too cool for school", so seeing someone being unapologetically what they believe is "too cool" is weird to compute—and irritating. I can only speak for my age group, but as we established earlier, we all have our issues.
In truth, you don't need to be stopped, you just need to be given space. This is what everyone is or should be doing as you're collectively infamous for your nonsense.
So, enjoy it.