It's a bit like dying really, isn't it? Being a teenager, I mean.
Sometimes, it feels like knowing you only have 3 years to live. The love, anger, passion and pain are made so potent by the thought of adulthood, drawing inexorably closer, like rain clouds before a storm. We are faced with the prospect of years of office jobs, mortgages, and rapidly increasing overdrafts. We are frightened, so we do the only thing we know: We fight. We live, love and hate as fiercely as we can, because we know that in the blink of an eye, it will be over.
Well that was how i saw it anyway. But somehow, at the age of 17, I'd had enough of it all – the conflict, the instability and the constant need to feel. To feel the touch of skin on skin, the numbness of my tongue after half a bottle. I'd run out of firsts, and the seconds weren't all that great anymore.
All those firsts...
First vodka shot
That first, fateful acid tab
Well. You know what?
I had been there, done that. I'd bought the T-shirt, the mug, the postcard and maybe even the keychain with the photo. I felt empty, and maybe some small part of my mind knew that it was time to grow up. It was only later that i realized I'd forgotten something, and only when that something struck me like an oncoming train. Or a nuclear missile.
Maybe it was first love.