In discussing life with my never-been-a-jw friends, I see “normal” stages of development. I see teenage years of rebellion, drug experimentation, drunkenness and casual sex. I see relationships and heartbreaks. I see catfights and drama, break-ups and make-ups. I see long nights of hitting the books followed by long nights of drunken splendor. I see the sorting out of jobs and career paths. I see the individuation of a life, a leaving of the nest. And I wonder…
Is it really possible for me to go back and have those experiences? I mean, yes, I can have those experiences, but the age at which I’m having them profoundly alters my experience. I am 33. I am not 15. Sure, I can go out and get drunk and fuck random people. Or can I? Can I really go out and pretend to be the carefree teen? I have the life experience of an 80 year old. It’s difficult to go back to the mind space and naiveté of a teen or twenty-something. There is a purity about the stumbling and bumbling of those younger years. There is a beauty in the exploration. For me, it feels strange somehow. Sometimes a bit contrived.
I go back and read my blogs here on occasion. All the navel-gazing seems a bit sophomoric at times. And I wonder if people really have any clue what it’s like for me, this thirty-something attempting to revisit the stages of life I’ve missed. I must seem self-absorbed. And I am. It’s the one part of being a teenager I’ve been able to revisit with some degree of consistency. This blog has allowed me the vehicle to share my locked diary with the world. Thanks for being here. Even if you don’t get me, it’s okay. I don’t get me either. Perhaps I'm more of a teen after all.