Being 19 going on 90 is not easy in the slightest bit, especially while living in the fast-paced, social media crazed, and virtual-obsessed society that we do today. Although I appear to be living the life of an average 19-year-old, my inner grandma has often said otherwise. I don’t understand the concept of posting my every move online, creating the perfect hashtag, or constantly scrolling through my phone in the presence of another being. I don’t understand using “YOLO” to be rebellious and destructive, as opposed to productive and progressive.
I don’t understand why I would ignore the company of an individual in front of me to virtually associate with someone else. I don’t understand the purpose of drinking to become belligerently drunk or smoking just for fun. I don’t understand why certain brands of clothing conquer others, and why wearing specific brands would make me more cool and popular. I don’t understand why being content and wanting to stay in and play board games with friends on a Friday night, instead of illegally attending “the scene” at the local bar, would make me a party pooper. I don’t understand why being in solitude and spending time by myself automatically makes me “lonely.”
I don’t understand why I can’t innocently ask a boy to go star-gazing at night without society directly correlating my invitation with something completely opposite of what I intended. I don’t understand Snapchatting the seconds of my day, Twitter wars, or the amount of confidence people put into their “likes” on social media. I don’t understand the act of taking 30 selfies, only to observe each and every single one with disgust of the way I look. I don’t understand gossiping, cussing, or texting as opposed to a good old fashioned phone call. I don’t understand caked makeup, the amount of effort and thought put into visual appearance, and self-critiquing, instead of being confident and happy with the attributes I have. I don’t understand bad attitudes, a low work ethic, and selfishness.
Call me crazy or call me old school, but I just do not understand the aspects which make up the society I find myself confusedly stumbling through today. How did our world arrive at this point? Since when is our self-value and worth based on society and what it tells us we should amount to and be? Since when is the quality of the life we are living measured by the superficial and worldly aspects of the 21st century? Since when did we decide to let the world around us dictate who and what we are and should eventually become? Since when did I realize being an old soul in a young world is my greatest blessing…and my greatest curse?
I know I am not the most hip, flyest, or swaggiest individual out there, but the life I live is one through the eyes and mind of an individual who feels and sees deeper than flesh. I have learned to listen, as opposed to hear, value, as opposed to trash, and deeply acknowledge, as opposed to brush off. While the 21st century scrolls through their screen and only sees glass deep, I have chosen to live a life of connections, understanding, and relationships that go beyond that of a clear sheet of fragile and non-sturdy material. Maybe that’s because the 90-year-old life I find myself living is not materialistic.
It is hard being 19 going on 90. Not because I am a step behind the game, modern technology, or "cool kids" lingo, but because I just do not feel as if I belong in the generation to which I have entered. My morals, values, and beliefs often differ from those around me and I constantly find myself struggling to cope with the actions, choices, and lifestyles of the peers I am surrounded by. While being an old soul has given me the opportunity to see the world and life through different eyes…or a monocle…I have also been given the opportunity to fall deeper and deeper into the trap of confusion and absolute separation from this fast-paced and care-free society I am supposed to be the master and conqueror of.
No, there is absolutely nothing wrong with being young and rebellious. However, I am excited for the day when my counterparts catch up to my inner age and are 90 going on 91 so that we can sit down on a rainy day, coffee cup in hand, “home sweet home” sweater on chest, and talk about the things in life that truly matter and have meaning in our world.
Until that day comes around, I will continue to march to the beat of my own drum and live the life of a 90-year-old grandma, anxiously trapped inside the body of a confused and hopeless 19-year-old young adult.
