![]() Wise Owl? Nah, he's just angry.A Story by Owl![]() I needed to let off some steam.![]()
As a rule, I despise teenage rants. Usually because of the general whiny nature of problems I care very little about. Who cares if I can’t get a girlfriend when we’re running out of fuels, there’s world-wide poverty and a couple hundred wars going on at the same time? I’m not even sure I do. Suicidal poems irritate me to the point of willing the poet to actually solve everyone’s problems and make that final cut. Teenage angst is something I hate, unrequited love bores the hell out of me, and abuse is something I’ve heard so very many times before. Hell, I’ve had my share and I turned out fine. Well, that’s debateable. The point is, I despise the idea of a teenager, and naturally enough, I am one. I am supposed to be out drinking myself to death, smoking various substances and snorting other ones. I am supposed to be having wild sex with girls I neither know nor trust. I am supposed to enjoy hours of dancing to repetitive noises in a poorly-lit room. I am supposed to be a teenager.
I am not what I am.
Everything I am supposed to be, I don’t want to be. And, in the spirit of the universe’s ever present sense of humour, complaining about this makes me a teenager. Because, let’s face it, teenagers are also supposed to complain. I could go on with this subject of my complaining that I am complaining until I created a time paradox, but if it’s all right with you, I’ll stop pretty soon. Don’t worry; I’ll throw in some jokes to lighten the mood. It’s only my life, right?
I suppose this all began a few days ago. This rant I mean, not my life. That would stem from further back and honestly I was a little too preoccupied with being born to jot any of it down. This rant, however, began when I was invited to a friend’s birthday party. I say friend, I mean someone I have had absolutely no contact with for a year. Yes, this was a pity invite and no, I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to go. Of course, my friends tried to twist my arm.
‘C’mon, Owl, it’ll be fun.’
‘That’s very subjective.’ ‘There’ll be girls there!’ ‘I am one for equal opportunities.’ ‘There’ll be free food!’ ‘Well, now that is tempting.’ ‘You don’t want to disappoint your friend, do you?’ ‘Oh, you had to play that f*****g card.’ Unfortunately, I do have a conscience. It’s a small one, and it pisses me off. But, yes, it exists. So, I agreed to attend this friend’s birthday party. I told people it was because I wanted to be nice. This made them smile. The truth is, I have recently had it explained to me that I am quite a personal person. Yeah, I know. I’m a loner, is probably the easiest way to explain it. The guy at the back of the class who shuffles through corridors with a big duffle bag on his back, that’s me. Just slightly friendlier, if I do say so myself. I enjoy peace. I am happy with my own company, and I like to take my own sweet time with things. I don’t consider this bad or wrong at all, but one night another friend of mine decided to describe me like this:
‘You just play games, watch movies, masturbate, write stories and ignore your sadness.’
I was actually quite proud of that.
Still, I thought that maybe I should try this whole teenager thing. See how it goes. I shan’t be boring you with the details, because frankly, it’s not worth my time writing them down. The night ended not an hour ago with a group of said ‘teenagers’ standing in the cold, driving their cars into each other, swapping bodily fluids at alarming rates, raising their collective alcohol contents to dangerous proportions, and generally having much of their beloved ‘fun’.
I was cold, angry and wanted to go home.
The punchline is, I couldn’t wait to get back to my keyboard and complain.
I am who I am and I like it. I like being at the sidelines, I like watching the world go by, and y’know what? I’m cool with being a loner too. While I have no doubt that currently, as I write this twisted and pointless little column of letters, my friends are having much sex, drugs and for all intents and purposes, good old rock and roll.
But y’know what?
F**k ‘em.
I’m quite happy to sit here and just play games, watch movies, masturbate, write stories and ignore my sadness.
Hey, maybe I am a teenager.
© 2009 OwlAuthor's Note
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9 Reviews Added on September 11, 2009 Last Updated on September 12, 2009 Author![]() OwlAs if that's relevant., United KingdomAboutHello, people. I haven't written in a long time; but willing to change that. Let's see. - Owl more..Writing
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