It was an odd time, that I am certain. Strangely enough, we had a rather darker interpretation of our youth. Darker shades of clothing, we had no accessible cameras to document our daily lives and we all harbor straight faces, thinking it was ridiculous to smile. I don't think we really didn't have much use for the cameras anyway because we are all busy being miserable. And even if we do, we always have just that one side of our faces being taken in a blurred shot.
Misery, I tell you, is a strange thing. You embrace it because there is some sense of identity that comes along with it. People know you when you are miserable. On another note, misery from afar is like a cry of help that no one will even dare raise or even notice.
And for one thing, misery is a form of guilty pleasure. We were the kids who used to feast on our fears, insecurities and antagonistic views of life. We wish for everything we can't have, we hate the people who have it all while we hate ourselves a bit more.
We were the kids clad in black; music was our religion and our souls were restless from wanting. Those lyrics were our daily prayer; love was our downfall while death was our fantasy.
I was one of those kids. Sinister, always a little too different and out of context and has a world of her own.
I was contented in that small world that I have made for myself. In that small world, I hang out with rock stars, get validated, respected and admired. The characters in my mind love me enough and I was able to get by. In the confines of my fragile mind, I was allowed to be anything I want.
Even until now, I still have a profound hate of the world and of the people who are in it. I used to hate myself more than these things; but when music is your religion and you have seen more of the world somehow, you tend to want to love yourself and forgive the world for all the things it has done to you. After all, the world never knew. And in that spirit of naivety, the world will keep on doing the same to anyone who will find themselves waking up with that burden to live and get by with the things they didn't even sign up for.
If you happen to wake up today with a burden to live, give the world a chance. Like you, he's a kid not aware of what he is doing. Take it from me, he is the bully of the playground, he just wants to make it hard for everyone. I don't even know why, but that's the thing with kids; they do things without reason, without question.
Years had passed and on one random occasion, my youth paid me a visit. She asked me how I was doing. I told her I was doing fine. Apart from the faint smell of cigarettes and coffee and the occasional stench of alcohol, I told her I'm okay. I'm getting by. Still not famous or anything, just a bit fatter and older surrounded by papers, case digests, and leather bound textbooks thicker than the Bible.
She was disappointed. She told me she had never expected this from me.
"You're supposed to make things better for us!" she cried. "What happened?!"
I shrugged and lit a cigarette. "Life happened. Get on with it."
She looked at me with tears in her eyes. She was disappointed. She was overwhelmed with emotion as her tears dissolved her eyeliner and turned it into a massive smudge on the corners of her eyes.
"Why are you here anyway?" I asked. "You're the one who didn't want to get this far."
She bit her lip as she sat beside me and leaned on my shoulder. "Hey, how's he doing?"
I looked at her and took a drag. "Who?"
"Him. The guy I loved. The only one person who took time to notice me and accepted me and in exchange, I gave him love; love that no one else can give him."
