By James McDonough
Edited by Alloe Mak
17. The beginnings of nostalgia and the time the crushing weight starts to set in, the truth of the rest of one’s life. One has begun to define who they are as a person, consciousness and personality have begun to establish, but people still say life has yet to start. At 17, I often think of my younger self. My laughs without worries—my days without stress. I see old photos, of moments of uninterrupted joy in my younger years with an unwavering grin that never escaped my face, and a sense of melancholic nostalgia and dread takes over me. The realization that I will never experience such joy again sits in my stomach. I will never be back in the same moments I once lived. This, paired with the weight of my imminent future, regularly overwhelms and consumes everyday thought. Through the pursuit of self-actualization, joy seems further and further out of reach—the joy I once had long behind.
The future at this age is a weight on your back that only gets heavier as the days go on; a voice in the back of your head that only seems to get louder, nagging about what comes next. “You have so many doors opening for you! So many opportunities,” is the phrase that most teenagers will hear as they approach the end of their high school careers. The constant words telling you that the rest of your life is commencing will seem to last forever. Time keeps moving, and its grasp on your neck gets tighter and tighter. People will never stop reminding you how exciting it is that you are beginning your journey into a career Yet, the amount of limitless and wondrous opportunities framed through a realistic lens of sustainability make you wonder how happy that opportunity may truly make you, and the options tighten. What you come to take in is the ever-growing gap between one’s joy and one’s career; the difference between finding happiness and being successful. The dreaded office job and being trapped in a rut of repeating days, all identical and without change. The idea of studying to the point of insanity for a prestigious and pretentious piece of paper that says “you did it!” to get a job and work for one’s entire life seems like a nightmare. This sense of opportunity changes when all the paths ultimately converge into a cycle of work that appears ever-draining. I fear being just another worker; another cog with no purpose.
I refuse to live my life with blinders on. I cannot and become a machine of repetition, as I begin to fear I will lose grasp of myself. Humans are conscious beings—I am aware of my existence, mood, and changes. It is Human nature to fear change, and nostalgia is the cause of this. This is the age where I now have sufficient memories to truly miss my former self.
As I grow and truly discover myself, I find that the most important thing is just that: growing. I was happier and without stress because I knew less, and as much as I wish to be that kid once again, I know I never will be, and I would not trade who I am now for that. That child is gone, but so is the version of me last year and last week. I chase happiness but know that the path to knowledge and growth is only filled with more dread. Yet, I cannot stagnate. Seventeen is perpetually paradoxical. I refuse to live with blinders and refuse to stand still—I must revolt. Breaking free from the cage of nostalgia is the only way to look forward, as nostalgia keeps you in the same spot of dreadful melancholia. Suffocation of the future is perpetual and something I must accept. I loosen the grasp that time has on me by living and being happy in the moment—it is the solution because there is no alternative. Though pursuit of knowledge is inherently difficult, I must adhere, as change is forever needed. To become the best version of self, to truly self-actualize, one must grow; revolt against the trappings of time.