Discontented. I am not unhappy, not at all, but I am discontented.
Growing up seems to be wondering, “Is this it?” more and more often. Everything is heightened as a child; every emotion felt comes and goes with so much more intensity and brevity than in adulthood.
Maybe this is why teenagers are often written off as “angsty.” Maybe they’re quickly realizing that the excitement of childhood really is short-lived, but they don’t know how to communicate that just yet.
Young adulthood, where I currently abide, should be exciting. Right? College should be filled with friends and adventures, but so far, I have yet to fulfill that aspect of living. Does that mean I am simply not living? Merely existing? I used to think that that was such an overused term, but suddenly there is truth to it because I can’t even remember the last time I laughed. I mean really laughed. The kind of laugh where you can’t control yourself, where maybe a few tears slip out and your words are indecipherable. Where did that go?
I see my peers laugh like that all the time, so why not me? I want all the cliches I’ve been writing off all my life (likely solely because I can’t seem to find them for myself). Riding in a car full of friends singing along to a too-loud radio, going to concerts, spontaneous day trips to who-knows-where. I’ll even take the late night study sessions where my eyes feel too heavy to keep open and we recharge on coffee every hour.
Because I have had tastes of that kind of living, my God these kids don’t know how lucky they are to be surrounded by friends. Those few moments, even a couple years at one point, were some of the few times I have felt like I was living in a movie; where I felt and did everything I was supposed to feel and do. They don’t know how good they have it, because the only thing I have consistently longed for in my entire life is to truly belong.
This is the time of life that older people look back on and talk about with fondness; with pride and a longing look in their eyes. This is the time of life that people without social anxiety and an unlikable awkwardness take for granted.
I have fallen into a nasty rut long before I am supposed to. So, am I simply existing? Or am I simply jealous?