Some people either choose or fail to comprehend the countless struggles that us seemingly 'moaning' and 'trouble-making' teenagers are faced with in only-too-difficult daily life because they only believe that the problems which fully-fledged, Armani suit-clad working adults have to deal with are of a higher, more prioritized importance - although making ends meet to pay the bills and run a stable family life cannot be ignored or pushed to one side like the urgent matter doesn't hold any significance on our struggling-to-cope society, teenagers and young adults ought to not be denied the opportunity to allow their voices - and future ones of our countries as this generation will eventually take over the jobs and create a legacy of their own - to be heard, whether sadness is suddenly engulfing them or problems are affecting the way they feel. Age should not determine whether somebody's troubling dilemmas ought to be listened to; that stigma, for both the young, in-between and elderly, deserves to be banished within an instant because it offers no help or guidance for the ever-changing, ground-breaking world in which we live today. That is the first point that I intend to make as it allows me to breathe just a little less tightly and sigh without as much stress flooding my heart, which feels as fragile as valued piece of breakable china - why should I be given the impression of portraying my usual light-hearted, caring nature in a less-appreciated manner because of my supposedly young age?
I guess that many other teenagers - and numerous adults - can experience these feelings far more strongly than myself, who, quite honestly, is undergoing some hard-hitting pity as my continuous disappointment about not yet bringing my new kittens, boisterous Bart and laid-back Benny, home, almost six weeks after I first encountered the heart-warmingly adorable and sleepy-eyed pair.
Several things which have happened this year - such as losing my fluffy-furred friend, Tom, in March then saying goodbye to his brother, Jerry, six months later - have turned my old content world upside down, most of the time without a single warning as to the disastrous events destined to occur, and my tear-stricken grief over waving a heart-breaking farewell to both my furry brothers in the space of less than a year has gradually built to a point where I can no longer take another setback - such as being forced to wait another week for the kittens to be ready, as I was told several weeks ago, though this statement has since surpassed the highest cliched level - because my pounding head is prepared to explode, both messily and dangerously.
Being a hormonal, out-of-control teen seems tough, doesn't it? Nobody could get that answer incorrect; at one point or another, you will be either placed into the middle of a gorier-than-a-zombie's-bite mess or create one, often unintentionally, so hardly anybody is immune to getting their bite-sized chunk of temporary misery or second-long moments of wishing to be swallowed by the awfully pot-holled ground, where all kind of nasties lurk beneath the bumpier-than-a-rocky-road surface. OK, having a jumbo-sized moan about my problems may appear rather thoughtless in your eyes - admit it, everybody, including yourself, have issues yet to dispute and sort out - but at the moment in time, I wish to unleash the obstacles preventing me from cuddling my new kittens, whom I yearn to be able to officially call my own.
Last weekend, my hopes were lifted a little bit when I ordered some catnip toys - my idea of a pre-Christmas gift for the two Kits due to their tiny teeth being unable to consume any festive treats, albeit I have wondered whether their so-called 'baby' teeth are sharper than Dracula's blood-stained fangs - on the internet because I couldn't help but gush over how much they would enjoy getting a sense of excitement from the catnip-scented toys, the idea of which made me laugh lightly and continue to wait patiently until the following week.
Well, the week has finally arrived - and yet no response about whether they are ready, at eleven weeks old, to be given to their new loving owners, who have already purchased half of the warehouse in Pets at Home and fitted gates intended for toddlers in the kitchen. I'm desperate to pour my heart and soul to two new furry friends who will fall asleep in my wrapped-up arms and reward me with the love that adoring pets give to their owners and guardians - no amount of Desperate Housewives fever cannot take my mind off the Kits, which, judging my previous hard-to-handle addiction to the surprisingly alluring programme, just goes to show how much I would do to hear the sound of half-muted squeaks and contented purrs liven up the house to its former glory, washing away the sadness left by the loss of Jerry.
I'm impatient. No other adjective on the Thesaurus.com website - an absolute, paradise-like godsend for aspiring writers and too-lazy-to-check teenage bloggers like myself - can powerfully describe my character-testing impatience, which is capable of pushing others to the teetering, heart-racing edge; yet, if you had been placed in my situation, could you be blind to seeing the problem faced before me? Waiting with a placid half-smile curved on my lips has never been granted any permission to present itself in my easily-annoyed nature; that's the sole reason for which my brother takes advantage of my irritability on almost a daily basis, provoking a high-pitched yell to strain my lungs and awaken anybody from a peaceful slumber around the neighbourhood. In other words, I'm unable to help the way that I react to certain things, but I've hit a point which threatens to break all barriers into the centre of my mind, where I am hopeless to hold onto the last seed of self-control.
Unfortunately, there are no other option flashing its offer to me on a Google web search: I must pick my scarf-wrapped self off the dampened ground and carry on in sake of Tom and Jerry, whose art of vibrating purring kept me going when my hormones were bringing me down to an all time, spot-saddening low. Bart and Benny need me to stay loyal and mentally stable - what good would the sight of a half-mad, half-crying teenage do for themselves, who honestly deserve a happy environment?
Deep down, nothing else explains my Wintertime Sadness (a play on the title of my favourite Lana Del Rey, Summertime Sadness) better than my yearning to see Bart and Benny six weeks on from my first visit; crazy hormones aside, I suppose that I feel alright, though writing here on a blog helps me to present the facts in a straightforward manner and come to accepting the situation before me.
Until now, I probably haven't given a proper reason for why I wished to set up a blog, except to gain experience in relation to English lessons and have something other than an hour dedicated to The Sims 2 - on a hazy Sunday morning, but this post offers the official explanation and low-down on my reasons.
Whenever I feel as though the teenage blues are on the verge of issuing a threat to sneak upon myself, logging onto my laptop and releasing my hidden energies bring me back to normality - the place where my heart is destined to belong. Writing about my feelings offers more guidance than spitting feathers about sticky dilemmas and reaching a logical solution which would help to diminish my nail-biting (honestly, I don't do that anymore!) problems. Just as I reach the end of this post, my heart soars a little higher into the bright November sky; it's a million miles better than the way I felt, saddened and lifeless, at the beginning almost an hour ago.
I detest the blues and wish for nothing more than being granted the Charmed-inspired power (telekinesis has always emerged as my favourite of all) to banish all sadness from good-natured, deserving people across the world - we are worthy of higher ranks, better treatment and eternal, pure-as-nature happiness. The battle, I realize, will only be won once Bart and Benny arrive home, creating a sense of elation and relieved emotion from not only myself, but everybody else, too - let unwanted bouts of sadness disappear from the face of earth!
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