"Ten Thoughts on Turning 16"
10 feelings on turning 16
- Excitement. Look out world, here I come! I have literally been waiting my whole life for this. The last digit in my age has flipped to its next numerical value, like a manual scoreboard at a baseball game, or one of those do-it-yourself calendars. Even though I know that in the grand scheme of things, the annual passing of September 4th means only that A) the globe has successfully completed a 365 day revolution around the sun and B) I’ve come one year closer to my death, I still like to hold on to the selfish thought that it affects everyone.
- Joy. Yes, my happiness level has receded a bit, but it’s ok. I can still hold on to the thought that being one year older comes with an entirely new perspective. Who knows how I’ll see the world from this day on? Maybe I’ll suddenly become very interested in PTA meetings and how mortgages work. Maybe I’ll realize that my parents were right all along, or that all teachers really are looking out for you, or that my 5 pages of busy work really are going to help me in the long run, or why I feel the need to use humor to cover up how I really feel about every worrying situation in my life. If an epiphany has been waiting for the right time to hit me, I’m wide open.
- Pleasantly delighted. I’m turning 16, I can’t stop it. I’ll get privileges, I guess. 16 is the age you get your driver’s license. Imagine me, anxiously avoiding bicyclists and pedestrians while i swerve through lanes. It’s so fantastic to find out about another action I would be held fully accountable for, another way I could possibly self-destruct. Because everyone knows that 16 year olds just love to take responsibility.
- Jealousy. Around this time every year I start to envy younger self. 9, 10 years old, those were the days. I lived on unbrushed hair, I devoured my favorite books, and I came to school every day with the desire to learn something new, to expand my horizons until they were close to bursting. Now, though, if I don’t brush my hair it’s because there isn’t enough time for me to get from one AP class to another, and when I fall asleep surrounded by books they’re all filled with the sharp slashes of red pen that bleed into my subconscious every night. At some point along the way I stopped remembering my dreams; when new information does stick in my head it’s usually just a test taking strategy or the GPA of someone doing better than me in class. I know I need to learn time management, but if I can’t even keep up with my own age how am I supposed to deal with the rest of my life?
- Panic. Why do I have to be the one with the birthday that comes early in the school year? Even though it’s an exact date that will never change and has happened every year I’ve been alive, I’m always caught off guard. Two weeks into the start of school is way too soon to become a year older. I don’t even know if my friends are my friends. I’m seeing everything in my life right now through a foggy window and I’m not at all ready to wipe down the glass. It’s almost worse the older you get, because you sense the impending anxiety but you’re still powerless to stop it.
- Frustration. I can’t believe that my age is doing this to me. I’ve done nothing but nurture it, care for it year after year, and this is how it repays me? I mean, sure, I’ve cursed it before. Nothing is more discouraging than being 14 and not being able to pass for 12 to get a better price on movie tickets, or being 12 and not being able to pass for 14 to stop being handed crayons and a kid’s menu at every single restaurant I attend. I guess I was wrong when I thought all my bad days were behind me. 16 was supposed to help me make things better, but so far I’ve only seen it as a rough hand grabbing me and leading me straight into a spiral.
- Anger. I’m not going to fall back into this repetitive dance with my own adolescence. Each year it’s the same resentment, the same bargaining with the daylight to slow down, the same confusion brought on by another year older and helped along by worst-case scenarios. And as the seconds tick down to September 4th and my heart starts pumping faster in my chest, I realize that for 16 years I have placed so much emphasis on my coming age that there was no way i could ever live up to my own expectations. I’ve been telling myself that making it to another age is the only thing that matters, but what really matters is
- Nothing. As the clock strikes midnight I can feel the 5 lifting out of my scoreboard, and the 6 taking its place, in perfect numerical value. This is aging, even barely. This is the feel of 16’s grasp trying to drag you down, and this is fighting. This is another year gone. This is also another year ready and waiting, ready for anything and
- Everything. 16 has seeped under my skin, it has crawled around in my mind and it’s making itself at home. Slowly but surely, hesitant but willing, it’s here. There’s no way to cheat it or change it. And I am going to spiral into
- Acceptance. Even though it took me 16 years.
Essays
I just turned 59 last Halloween. Can you imagine that? I can recall turning 16. I can also remember 25, 30, 40, 50….oh, it gets weird, quickly.
Good luck with your writing.