Surviving Adolescence

Story two: Toxic Masculinity

Sent. He read the text once more before shoving his phone back into his pocket. It was done. Finalised. Over.

Conflicted and alone, the sorrowful boy trudged dismally down the pavement; his heart weighing heavy in his chest. The world had lost it's colour. The once beautiful singing of the birds had become mocking squawks that tormented him. The smell of spring which once brought a smile to his face now made his stomach turn in anguish. What happened to the happiness? Why was it gone? Oh. Her.

*Why'd she have to make that face? Why'd she have to make this so much harder than it had to be? It's not my fault I had to break up with her!* he thought, with frustration.

The boy's thoughts swirled round and round; slowly consuming his mind. He felt like he was going insane.

He thought of her. Her smile, her laugh, the way she would look into his eyes and make him feel like he could do anything as long as he had her by his side. His heart tightened with both joy and misery as he thought of her. Had he made the right choice? Should he talk to her and try to fix things? Was he really prepared to lose her? His doubt set heavily in his stomach as he thought- until a familiar voice grew louder in his mind.

"A man must never show his emotions. Emotions are weakness. To be strong is the very definition of being a man."

Dad. The boy shivered as he remembered his father's words. His words were law. Laws that dictated his very being.

-

The boy paused at a crossing; patiently awaiting for permission to continue his journey. School would be boring- as usual. He felt no excitement, no happiness, no anything. Not even the thought of seeing his friends changed the way he felt.

He wondered how they'd feel.

*Can't call me a simp if I have no one to simp for! That's what they wanted, right? Isn't it?*

The school gates drew closer and closer as the boy continued trudging along the pavement, head lowered; deep in thought. His friends' words echoed loudly in his head. The way they'd mocked him and taunted him for having a girlfriend. How every time she called, his happiness would twist to embarrassment in a handful of cruel, judgmental words from those he felt closest to.

Why? Why'd it have to be like this? Why couldn't he have her and the respect of his friends? Why couldn't he be a man and have emotions at the same time? The questions gnawed at him as he unwillingly trudged up the cold staircase. The familiar sound of teenage chaos grew louder and louder as he approached the classroom but no amount of noise could drown out the thoughts and voices in his head. They tortured him. Simp. Weak. Be manly. Don't be a pussy. Man up.

*SHUT UP!* he thought, gripping his hair with his shaking hands.*SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!*

He couldn't escape. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't get away from the ideals that had been forced on him. His dad, his friends, society. Yes. Society. Society enables these ideals to throw a world of pressures on to every man and boy. Men are supposed to be manly. They don't show emotion and they are always strong. Boys are disruptive, they cause chaos. That's how the school see us. Boys are fast and boys are strong. That's how coaches will see us. But boys are just boys.

He slumped onto his chair; resting his head in his hands as his thoughts rambled on loudly.

*We have emotions just like everyone else, we aren't always strong, we aren't always a nuisance! Why do we have to conform to the expectations of others? Why can't we be ourselves and show our emotions just like girls can? Pfft- girls. They'll never understand. They aren't under the same pressure; they don't experience the same things. How could I have explained this to her? Tell her why I feel this way. Feel. Feelings. She'd see that I had feelings. Emotions. Weakness. I am not weak. I'm not!*

With that, the boy slowly lifted his head; peering out from behind his icy hands. In that moment he'd come to the conclusion that he would never show weakness again. She made him weak. She wouldn't understand. It had to be done. Besides, the text was sent; the deed was done. This wasn't just another little argument that they'd work out in a day or two, this was for real. The end had been finalised.

The boy's weary eyes scanned his surroundings before landing on a boy across the room who's head kept slipping from the support of his hand. He wore a hoodie the colour of darkness and jeans the shade of the midnight sky. He always looked half asleep; head always down and a far-off look sprawled across his face. He looked like he didn't have a care in the world. Like nothing reached him. Not society's rules, not the opinions of others and, by the looks of it, not even the requirement to stay awake during class.

A deep hatred arose from somewhere and the irritated boy scoffed upon this realisation and decided that he hated that boy across the room. How dare he sit there carelessly; unbothered and unfazed. Like he wasn't under the same pressure that every other boy was.

*Why do I have to suffer while he sits there drifting off to sleep like some careless idiot? Why does he get to be ignorant while I have to deal with the world on my shoulders? He's not suffering like I am, he has it easy! It's not fucking fair!*

The rage took over and the boy rose from his chair. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to punch that other boy in the face, to make him suffer, to-

"Alright class, let's begin-"