Noelle - Dear Adults, Episode 1

Hi guys!!!
So today I want to try something completely brand new.  This blog is written by all teenagers, some soon to be adults - although I don't really get that.  Are 17 year olds supposed to wake up one day and be like, "Oh goodie, now I'm an adult!  Time to pay taxes, go to college, get a job, and search for a potential mate before my family buys me cats and/or tries to set me up with a snot-nose who's twice my age!"

Yup.



Fair warning, this new blog post series will be pretty much made up of extremely unnecessarily judgmental rants directed in adults' direction.  Sorry.  (Except I'm not.  Writing this post was so fun.)

Today's edition of Dear Adults is discussing that hallowed, decrepit phrase - "these are the best years of your life, so enjoy 'em!"

*Teenagers everywhere shudder*

First of all, this phrase makes me think of aunts who smell like cats and cigarette smoke and bake you oatmeal raisin cookies that you're forced to gag down because your mother is giving you this look:

The "Be polite now because we're in public and I can't kill you yet" look

(she posed for this.  Thanks Mom)

OR, a distant friend of your mom's, with two bratty kids and a screaming baby who they call "their little cupcake".  You barely know this woman and had the misfortune of running into her in like, the commissary.  (Or the grocery store, for you civilians)

These are NOT good images people.

Secondly.......WHAT?!

These are the best years of my life?!  Just what do you think a teenagers life is actually like?  Let's take a step back now and look at the teenager's mind.  Like literally, what is going on up there?

I know, for me, I'm stressed over school, wondering if I should get a job (and if I can balance my hobbies with money-making and not be miserable), concerned about where I'm going and what I should do with my life, worried that my dreams will never come true and I'll be staggering around in a land fill begging the pigeons for food when I'm 40 because I got an B- on that quiz last week instead of a A.  Teenagers are, in general, an emotional mess, drenched in rampant hormones they don't know how to deal with, and are covered in pressure - and not just peer pressure, but pressure from their teachers, parents, coaches, extracurriculars, A.P. classes, bosses, etc.

Ah, to be young and carefree!

So maybe I'm happy - which is what I'm guessing this phrase is implying, because otherwise, what the heck, thanks jerk for reminding my how sad, lonely, and miserable my life is going to be.  So maybe I'm just content to allow life to happen and feel the breeze and the auras around me and wow the sun is so beautiful!!

(no, I'm not a hippie.  I've never met a hippie teenager.  Peace, yo)

Anyway, even if I'm happy...these are the best years of my life!?

My life?!!?

Human life expectancy is about 80 years of age and stretching with every scientific discovery about genetics and what we're made of (and dropping every time a new Burger King joint opens its doors)  These are the best years of my life?  I won't enjoy my 20s or my 50s or my 80s or any other time as much as my tumultuous, miserable teenage years?  There won't be a single day where I'm sitting in a rocking chair in my 60s as the summer breeze drifts around me,my one year old grandchild asleep in my lap like an adorable squishy couch potato, and I say, "This is the best time of my life,"?

This is not promising.  Or encouraging, or cute, or 'enjoy-it'-inducing, or whatever the heck was supposed to be.

This is a threat.

It is literally promising that no mater how sucky life is at the moment, heh, it's only downhill from here!  Have fun with our 19.4 TRILLION dollar national debt, the responsibility of figuring out whether humans are actually melting the planet or if that's just political hype, plague, famine, pestilence, World War 3, and Trump (or Clinton.  Either way:

Conclusion: This phrase is so insulting on so many levels I'm surprise it even became a thing.  It was probably invented by the same guy who put the 's' in lisp.  And puts sharp corners on hip-height furniture.

Diagnosis:  Destroy it!  If an adult ever says this to you teens, feel free to slap them, with a fridge, or something lighter, like a scorpion.  Or let loose the fire of hell and tell them a thing or two (you can quote me!  I won't sue)

Or you can just force an awkward laugh and nod politely before exiting like a sweatshirt-ed ninja.

Since that's what we're doing anyway.

Sincerely,

Teens.

P.S.

I hope it was extremely clear that I meant this post to be as ridiculously sarcastic and offensively scathing as possible and that it was clear that I didn't literally mean to point fingers at anyone.  If you think this was too mean, tell me in the comments below.  Or complain to your friends about how weird and offensive this blog post was and give them a link.

Teens - tell me what Dear Adults I should do next!

Adults - Please stop telling kids that these are the best years of our life.

Literally, I didn't mean to hurt anyone's feelings.

Bye!  See you next week!