Okay, let me tell you a thing: teenagers are self-obsessed. There, I said it. The truth is sprawled out in spread-eagle position ready to be gazed upon in shock and awe. We always think about ourselves, even when thinking about others.
“Wow, that boy’s hella fine – I want him to snog me.”
“Wow, she’s got nice shoes – I want them.”
“Wow, that’s a fine looking balloon you have there small child – I require it so I can feel young and free once more.”
...Actually the last one’s a lie; when I see small children with balloon’s my chest kinda constricts a lil’ bit because I imagine it flying away and that fills me with such sorrow because it feels like a metaphor for my hopes and dreams slipping away in the breeze.
Anyway, ehem, sorry I got a bit caught up with myself there, and guess why – self-obsessed.
But thing is... it’s not always in a positive way and that’s when things start to become unhealthy.
Sure, there are people who are vain; who love themselves so much that they’re magnetised to every reflective surface in a 5 mile radius, but there’s also the other type.
The type who are self-obsessed because they don’t think they’re good enough. Pointing out their own imperfections at every given opportunity, telling themselves they aren’t worth shit, telling themselves they’re stupid or fat or ugly or just not normal.
We tell ourselves that we’re inferior.
Notice that oh-so-subtle shift in perspective I just did there?
Yeah, the collective ‘we’ is significant. Because I’m throwing myself into that darkened pool of doubt. And I’m throwing you in there too because I’m 99% sure that if you’re reading this, you’ve experienced those niggles. You know, that voice you can hear whispering sometimes – dredging up all your insecurities: every harsh word in your direction, every cold look, every rejection or moment of crippling embarrassment and shoving it back in your face as if to say “Look at yourself and tell me you aren’t disgusted.”
And yes, that voice is awful. It’s a really shitty voice to be honest. I don’t even know where it comes from. That symphony of self-doubt.
In fact, I’m gonna name it Steve, just for the Hell of it.
Steve-the-symphony-of-self-doubt.
I could call it Smeagol but then I’m just imagining myself in a loin-cloth eating a raw fish which is a massive no.
That really isn’t the point – the point is that you need to tell your own Steve to shove a fucking poker up its ass and sit the heck down because you don’t need that kinda shit in your life.
What more teenagers need to start realising is that they are worth it.
You are worth it.
But now I’m gonna tell you another thing. Prepare your brain matter.
Once you do finally start realising that you are fucking awesome, you hit another problem.
You start saying “Wait a second...if I’m so awesome, then how come I didn’t get that job that one time? How come that person picked someone else over me? How come no one tells me how fucking fantastic I am when I do all this great stuff for them?”
And that’s the thing.
Teenagers are self-obsessed remember? They don’t have time to focus on telling you how great you are because they’re too busy trying to convince themselves of that fact. 24/7.
It’s a vicious, vicious cycle.
We all have to keep telling ourselves that we’re awesome so much, that we never have time to tell anyone else how awesome they are.
And that my dear readers, has got to change.
We need to stop being so self-obsessed. We should start showing other people that we appreciate them; especially other teenagers because, as I have already established, the majority of us pretty much hate ourselves more than the World collectively hates Justin Bieber.
So here is my proposition: at least once a day, show someone that you value them.
It doesn’t have to be some sort of grand gesture like taking them on a scenic cruise of the Bahamas or dancing about their kitchen with a lute singing ‘That’s what friends are for’ but just do something; anything.
Granted, they might be a little freaked at first. They might react by saying something along the lines of “Dude, are you high?” or “I just threw up a little in my mouth” but don’t let that stop you. Channel your inner hippie. Show the love man.
Show.
The.
Love.
But not physical contact unless they’re cool with that shit; don’t just leap on your friend out of the shadows and squeeze them half to death whispering how nice their hair scent is today and asking if that’s watermelon you smell because that leads to restraining orders and deep-seated fear. Fact.
I’m not really sure how to finish this rant to be honest. I think I’m gonna do so with this video because this man sorta helped inspire me to do this rant and I just want to unofficially thank him for that:
http://thatfineline.tumblr.com/post/76860086397
(also yes, the link is on my tumblr page because yes, I typed in ‘Man being nice’ into Youtube and it came up with some very mixed results...)
P.S. I might have been slightly drunk on Southern Comfort and sorrow when I wrote this so sozzle if it's a bit...ya know...non-sensical.
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