I remember, as a little kid, all I wanted was to grow up. I wanted independence, excitement, I wanted to drive cars, go on dates with boys, and live in my own apartment. I imagined, as I think everyone does, that some day I would be magically grown up. If only life were that easy.
My other favorite misconception of childhood is that if someone is older than you they are therefore wiser. If you haven’t yet made this discovery, let me break it to you. It’s not true.
As I’ve gotten older, finding people I truly respect has become a proud accomplishment, and I find myself obsessively tracking my own intellectual and emotional growth.
Then I encounter people fallen between the cracks of life, those who have intelligence far surpassing that of many straight-A students whose situations in life gave them the needed boost for success. There are so many people with talent that is never truly polished, never appreciated because it remains hidden within small spaces.
The infinite sadness of these realizations are the truth of adulthood for me. I always thought of life as this obvious linear progression towards a series of goals, which is how my life has evolved, due to my own ambitions and the help of those dear to me.
People lacking in one of these two elements seem stuck in a circular pattern, unable or unmotivated to escape.
Suburbia, the epitome of the American Dream, has become a sinkhole for the stagnation of ideas, hopes, beliefs.