Today was an oddly warm November Sunday in the mid-Atlantic area. It was well spent - I went to see Arms & the Man at Constellation Theater in DC. The show was fantastic, but admittedly, my favorite part of the day was meeting Kyra.
It's been a struggle to feel different things than my peers. I equate it to being an outcast; a gay teen, a goth teen, a quiet and misunderstood teen. I have spent years knowing that I was different. I see things differently. Instead of listening to Ke$ha and Kanye, I'm listening to Queen and The Ramones, but that's simply on the shallow end of things. Instead of being worried about boys, clothes, popularity, and adolescent issues, I'm worried about the bigger picture. I'm concerned with men, the idea of style as a whole, inspiration, philosophy, and worldly issues. It's a very difficult part of me to explain since I haven't entirely figured it out myself, but I have a vague idea.
Kyra seems to feel the same way. Our aspirations to be older are futile, but they're real. I can't stand when someone tells me that I cannot change my position in life and that I wouldn't want to anyway. I may not be able to change my position, but I sure as hell cannot change the way I feel about it. It's refreshing to know that someone else feels the same way, has the same humongous delusions and the same hopeless dreams of skipping adolescence.
I opened with the Mark Twain quote about age. "If you don't mind," he says, "It doesn't matter." Well, this isn't necessarily true. I don't mind. Or do I? I mind my age because others do. I am constantly placed in situations that would be acceptable, were I an adult, but due to my age they are deemed odd or inappropriate. This isn't me, this is the mentality of others having an effect on me. If the entire world was not so stringent when it comes to - I cringe when I hear the word - minors, I wouldn't be vehemently hating my position in life at this time.
So, does it really matter? And why the hell does it need to matter?
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