Young and Misunderstood

Why do I constantly feel this way, present but somehow separate from the world as if I don’t belong, am not wanted, a twist of fate that everyone could quite easily do without. Their simple happy lives are only complicated by my presence, my words, my worries but I can’t help it, I can’t stop seeing what I see and thinking what I think. Something inside me will not let me ignore those thoughts. It’s a joke to them, an immature complainer who refused just to grow up like everyone else, be normal, accept, why can’t you just be happy with what you have, anybody would be lucky to have it? Ungrateful, they sometimes call it, self-indulgent they say, unable to accept the realities and responsibilities of a normal life. Realities? But their realities are lies upon lies upon lies, so interwoven, so ingrained that no-one can tell the difference. Lies about what you should do and worse lies about what you could do. I don’t want to just find a job, get married, buy a house and have kids.
I don’t want to live my life like I’m going through a form ticking boxes as I go. I don’t want to feel like an infant trying to earn gold stars that I can exchange for a bag of sweets.
It’s a distraction, that’s all; from the search to find meaning in how you live your life each day beyond what can be given by money and status. I don’t want to be just another person so petrified by the transience of their existence that all they can do is proclaim it in the most blunt and obvious ways. They see nothing past the passage of their days, not the history that precedes them nor the future that they continually poison in their futile battle to cement their own existence in the only way that they know how: in things that they can see and touch and others can see and touch. They are obsessed with the form because that is all that they think the others can see and all they are willing to show. What they want a is static picture that passers- by can look at say “That’s cool” then forget about as soon as they’re not looking at it anymore. How can you shut yourself from your own mind, forsake all responsibility for your own life by adopting the never ending formalities that have become the manual for how to live.