Teenagers are nuttier than squirrel poop.
On one hand, you have a group of society than is the next generation, one that will soon be off to college with a backpack full of books, stories and social skills.
On the other hand, those social skills are awful. Social “networking” websites have become the platform for wannabe Mean Girls (guys included).
I caved in and got a Facebook during my freshman year of high school. I got into the game fairly late and I prided myself for holding out. It made sense for academics and for my social life. My preferred mode of procrastination moved from solitaire to Facebook. I was moving up in the world. Hot dog! Sure the occasional mean thing was dropped in my Honesty Box, since deleted, but I let it roll off my back. I was a laid back person who enjoyed real world drama and not cyber drama. I moved into LHS the following year comfortable with who I was and who I hung around with.
Sophomore year was eye opening. As if puberty is difficult enough to deal with, the hallways were full of mature things: pregnant students, PDA and slurs. It wasn’t that bad looking back, but at the time it was overwhelming. Sadly, it was also only a taste of what was to come. Oh, how my world changed during my junior year.
I am a snarky person by nature. It is my source of humor, anger and indifference. However, just because I make a sarcastic comment every five seconds that will make you pee your pants, doesn’t mean I am without emotions, sensitivity and caring thought.
Junior year hit with a hurricane of uncertainty. I had my first steady girlfriend, which was a pleasant surprise. I don’t wear my emotions on my sleeve, and as such I didn’t scatter my PDA around the hallways like roaches. I figured LHS had enough of that as is. But deep down inside I feared myself. I was uncertain if I was on the right path. I doubted myself. I knew I was lazy. I knew I hung around a different group of friends from sophomore year. They had… “Character”, as I now like to say. My personal life was a crapshoot and my inner core was shaken.
My girlfriend and I broke up. I was happy to be single. Yet the feelings emerged again. I doubted myself and wondered if I was on the right path. I walked the hallways feeling alone, envying those younger and older, those who were willing to put themselves out there. In front of the slurs. In front of the homophobes. In front of those silly teenagers they called their peers. So I figured out my own medicine that fit my style. Every time I heard someone drop the G-bomb. I would butt in and say, “Oh, you mean round?” You see, the average teenager’s mind thinks about sexuality as straight and gay. But the opposite of straight isn’t gay, its round. I thought I was clever. Other people stared, looked confused and promptly said. “…Gay.”
Well that was awesome. And so my junior year faded away. The following summer, last summer, came to be my defining moment. It was full of tragedy and personal growth, but most importantly, I became comfortable with who I was.
I caved again in September and got a Twitter. 140 words or less. This is a great idea. Not enough room for insults, or so I thought. The G-bomb appeared and each time it did, I thought of my summer. The offenders of such vile language got a laugh, I got the tissues. Everyone thought it was funny, I thought it was round. I was different. Cool. Life goes on.
Mistakes eat at me; I have always tried to make people happy. I would lie to them so they would be jolly. Like a politician. That fell by the wayside during the summer. I didn’t like who I was trying to be so I changed. I have every reason to be happy. I am going to college; I am going to do what I want to do. So what if I irritated a few people along the way. I knew it wasn’t that smart, but I wanted to please myself and not others. The G-bomb disappeared, but other tweets implying the same massage creeped in. Then one was directed at me.
I tried to let it roll off my back, I honestly tried. But I was angry, and sad, and feeling horribly alone. But I remembered where I had been. I can’t change my attitude or who I am to please others. I know that the G-bomb is going to disappear, but sadly the message will not thanks to insensitive teenagers. But since my freshman year I have learned three crucial lessons thanks to social networking: Mean Girls wasn’t just a movie, teenagers are lunatics, and nothing can ever happen to you if you know who you are and take pride in that.