The Happy Tragedy of Adolescence

You've Never Met Me ! Have You ?

A lie—truthful.
A truth—bitter
A bitter word, sharp enough to hurt.
Hurt Me?,  Myself? or I?

And my thoughts —

I do not know,
And do not wish to.
But Me does and Myself doesn’t.

You met I, not me.
You met me, not I.
You met myself, but not I—nor Me.

But—
Did you meet Him?

Did you look into his soul,
Full of unlit crevices,
Longing to be found?

He seeks—no,
He yearns
For what he cannot have.
What only You can give, but never take.

Every interaction —
A dance of sort,
A smile so perfect, yet so fake.
His handshake so firm, yet so empty.

Betwixt the hush of Time himself, 
You could see the Him trapped in his person 
Behind those glassy eyes.
Tired, Misunderstood, and 

Alas—
Tired of being Misunderstood.

This is the happy tragedy of adolescence: we wish to be seen, yet we hide. We live, yes—but often, we cower in the face of tomorrow. That conflict, that contradiction, it isn’t yours alone. There is unity in this strange kind of suffering. A quiet, shared understanding that we’re all trying to figure it out while pretending we already have.

And the truth is, this suffering doesn’t stay the same. It changes. It matures. It grows with you. One day, without warning, it becomes nostalgia—the kind that hits you when you hear an old song or smell something familiar and suddenly, you're 16 again, unsure of who you are, but feeling it all deeply.

But don’t mistake it for sorrow. And don’t romanticize it into happiness either. It’s something in-between. Something that just exists, whether you choose to see it or not.

That’s the thing—you can choose. You can ignore it, bury it, laugh it off. Or you can face it. What I know for sure is that it's something we all must move through to reach whatever version of “Tomorrowland” we’ve imagined for ourselves.

This mark—this chapter—never really fades. For some, it’s a scar. For others, an engraving etched into who they are. The difference? Only they can say.

And if I may ask you one thing, it’s this: step out of your snow globe. Just for a second. Look around. Really look. The world outside might be stormy, yes, but it’s real. And it’s yours.

This isn’t about your parents. It’s not about her, or him, or whatever expectation the world throws at you. This is about you—your life, your choices, your person, and yes, even your shadow.

I wish I could provide you with the comfort you deserve, so do your parents and so do your friends and people who may be less than or lets face it…more than friends.

You are most probably wondering what to do right now after reading such a “depressing” piece of literature. If You think its a bit of a buzz kill I completely understand but I would suggest you to look again is it really. If no, You are probably kind of happy with your life which is kind of the most we can realistically hope for in this life. If yes, I would say well lets just Agree to Disagree and…I think you know where I’m going with this.

Don’t worry there’s not any other poems left.
Well hope I didn’t bring You down too much.

This is Someone signing off.