I’m doing a new series of blog posts. Inspired by Marc and Angel’s blog post titled 50 Questions That Will Free Your Mind.
I was sitting in the living room multitasking between watching TV and checking my phone. My parents were there too minding their own business when suddenly they got into a little quarrel.
Earlier, my dad got into a fight with my brother about something insignificant. So, he decided to groan and complain about it to me and my mother. My mother, having nothing of it, started to counter attack every single thing my dad said to her.
This was the norm in my household (two men fighting about who’s right is a fight with no end) so I just kind of ignored what they were saying.
I don’t remember what they were talking about but something my dad said made me stop in my tracks.
He said in the most childish way, “Well, he started it.”
I had to stop everything I was doing and look at him to make sure I was hearing it right. He even said it with a moping face. It was the funniest thing ever.
But funny aside, it made me realise something I’ve never think about deeply.
I realise my parents were just grown up kids.
You see, it’s weird to think of your parents as someone who was a kid, that kid who loved to run around doing stupid things, that teenager who rebelled against their parents, that young adult who was hip back then and also, someone who just wanted to be young again.
You’ve always known them as your parents, the responsible and superior authority over your life. You’ve never really (or at least I haven’t, not on a daily basis) thought of them as a clueless person who had no idea what to do next. To you, they knew everything. They’re the place you’ll go when you need some help. They’re always right and they always know better.
But, you’ve never considered the amount of shit they had to endure to be that wise.
I think that moment changed my life forever.
I decided to truly listen to what older people had to say because it’s the least I can do show my appreciatiation for the shit they went through.
Age is what you make of it.
I’m 21. I don’t feel like I’m 21, though.
It’s weird. I don’t feel like I belong to a certain age. I’m not independent enough to be 21, I’m very inexperienced to be 25+, and I’ve also grown out from my cringy teenage shenanigans to assume I’m a teenager.
I’m just a big blob of nothingness right now.