if you don’t know - or have never encountered - a teenager who is going through intense heavy experiences (like rape, abortion, eating disorders, abuse, fill-in-the-blank)
and is laughing these things off like THEY DON’T MATTER, then you are not ALIVE and AWAKE and living on this planet.
IT’S HAPPENING EVERYWHERE. i see it all the time. it’s called being a confused teenager. it’s real. it SUCKS.
thank you, amanda palmer, for this.
it reminded me of something i've been thinking about lately. and reminded me of the ten+ teenagers i know who are exactly what you described. that adults don't seem to realize, for some reason, that we have all these problems we bury and cover-up with cheerfulness and humor. like they acknowledge that shit goes on in the world but it doesn't happen to the percentage that go to a school like ours. i know girls who are completely depressed and will call a friend up in tears and say they don't want to live and five minutes later are laughing it off pretending their face is not wet anymore. i know girls who don't eat and everybody knows it and nothing is done. i know girls with family problems that i can't even talk about but for their privacy and they push it down and say 'i'm ok.' i know girls who have tried to kill themselves and they say 'it's ok.' and their whole families act so fucking normal. because like it doesn't matter, it is not something to talk about or think about, your family is not a place for honesty. i know a girl who stares at me out of the mirror and says i'm not pretty and i'm not happy i hate my life i hate myself...
the constant refrain.
in a family there are roles that make it all so hard. i am the baby, condemned to be immature and innocent and young in the eyes of the rest. god, sister1 always seemed so OLD when she was my age. she was FOURTEEN, a big girl! and she was, she was her own person and her own self with her own life and she was not stuck with some view of her that she had to adhere to. but because i have no one i can look down on (oh just my little sister she doesn't get it) there is no such thing as my own self.
i am always so jealous of her, i wish i were her. look at her... i wish i were her.
i am fourteen just a baby. oh look SIXTEEN AND A HALF such a huge goddamn difference. because guess what? there's sex in my poems and sometimes my best work is stuff that i'm too afraid to show any of you because of this awful expectation you have of me! and you know what, i'm sick of you telling me i can't watch movies because oh you're older.
also i wish i were pretty and i wish i were creative and i wish i could make things for shit.
(and i wish i weren't depressed and also i wish i was not afraid of pain because then i could cut deeper)
i guess my point is
also amanda palmer would like to say
WHEN YOU CANNOT JOKE ABOUT THE DARKNESS OF LIFE, THAT’S WHEN THE DARKNESS TAKES OVER.So... guess what, nonexistent blog readers?? Wheeeeeeeeeeee, I'm depressed and I'm morbid and I think about dying way too fucking much! But I don't care because I'm wearing a pretty dress and also my best friend has a date and also I can make pretty shoes, sometimes.
Anyway, Amanda(fucking)Palmer, thanks.
Edit: I realize that that post started out as an actual "hey look constructive stuff" post and degenerated into whining. This will happen. I'm sorry.