In my room, there is a corner where all the odd bits and pieces of my life are stashed: everything that I didn’t have time for ended up in that corner. It’s quite a convenient corner – it’s actually more of a portrution, and since it’s situated on the far right, diametrically opposite from my door, it remains quite hidden! But hidden or not, the time has come for me to clear it out and fill it with new stuff.
As you can imagine, the laziest time of my life was probably my teenage years so it is no wonder that a lot of things from my teenage years wound up there. This ranged from boxes and boxes of photos which I had meant to ‘artistically catalogue’ to the odd shoebox I forgot to discard. And speaking of photos, did I take a lot of photos as a teenager!
It seemed like everything needed to be captured and cherished! (Albeit, I didn’t do a very good job of cherishing!). It may just be my experience, but I don’t imagine it to : as a teenager, everything seems so dramatic. The photos screamed that these moments captured on film were special, although all we may really have been doing was grocerry shopping! I stumbled upon disturbingly dark poems stemming from anger which was irrational when scrutinized. And a superfluous amount of letters – both letters to myself and from myself. All of which, I must state, were brimming with emotion.
Of those letters, some involved good friends who are still good friends, others who have naturally drifted away and even some I strain to remember. It was funny to read such letters. Rather than feeling a sentimental nostalgia, I felt a strange distantness. I could not identify with the person I was. Each line I wrote, undoubtedly to communicate intense feelings of teenage devotion, produced laughter and ridicule in me now. It felt quite like a script from a cheesy soap – no wonder such shows appeal to that age group!
But something makes me wonder – why don’t I feel emotions so intensely anymore? Does maturity come with a hardening of the heart? I mean, it’s only been a few years since I stopped being a teenager – how could I have changed so drastically? What really shocked me were those letters of a romantic nature – at that time it seemed so real – whatever I was feeling, whether it was love or infatuation – I seemed genuinely and decidedly entrenched in it. And yet, fast forward a couple of years, and I’m wondering who exactly Eric* is?
Perhaps it has nothing to do with a hardening of the heart. Perhaps, typifying a teenager, I dramatized what I really felt. I used words that exagerated rather than described. That would certainly ease my mind with respect to those angry poems!
And perhaps, maturity dictates that we don’t do such things. While exagerating is usually harmless, it can deeply hurt, especially when one has exagerated one’s devotion. Perhaps maturity teaches us that it’s better to tell the story as it is, however bland and unromantic it may sound. For it’s better for one to know what you mean, than for one to like what you say. And perhaps the clearest thing maturity tells us is this: it’s not that big a deal if you don’t get your way. It certainly doesn’t warrant an angry poem!
* No real names were used in this post.