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by Parker Marin Velez 11 months ago in humanity
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story for social shock challenge

"Childish" Isn't that a funny word? No matter what age you are, it can always and will always be applied to you.

You'd think "childish" would be a good way to describe someone pure, fun, lively, and kind, but instead, it is used as an insult to describe the irresponsible, crazy, gullible, hyperactive, and people who can't ever seem to take anything seriously or the ones with a lack of focus and interest.

It's ridiculous, really, that the first time I was referred to as childish to my memory was in the second grade, seven years old when I decided to wear a "my little pony" hoodie, I never did wear that to school again.

It'll always be funny to me how even when you are a child, you will be called childish.

I daydreamed about things that didn't make sense to my family or teachers, they thought I was either crazy or delusional, that I was way too old to still be daydreaming, even when I was five.

I hated the idea of failure because, in my fantasies, I was always the hero who was stronger than everyone else, smarter than everyone else, and overall better than everyone else.

Even when I had no obligation to be the best, all because I wanted to be the character I created in the stories, the perfect person. Over the years, my daydreams would always have twins, at first I connected it with me never wanting to be alone when in reality there was always a pattern in these twins.

There was the perfect one, the one everyone loved, the serious one who always knew what to do, the strong one, the perfect child, the one the parents were proud to say were their child.

And... there was the other one, the lazy one, the one who hadn't slept in days, they were rude and too honest, in the ways people didn't like it, they were smart but didn't care enough to put effort, he was lonely and sad, full anger and annoyance.

And that's when I realized, the perfect one is who I wanted, and acted to be, the lazy one, was who I actually was, annoying and sad. People don't normally get why I write stories, or where my imagination comes from, they say they would kill for imagination but I don't think they realize the things that come with it.

Having disconnected ideas that don't always make sense, making up reasons as to why things work and why people say the things they do, and get disappointed when the truth is revealed.

Disappointed by how dull and boring reality is.

Over the years I started getting into psychology, probably not for the right reasons, I wanted to know how peoples minds worked, and how they didn't usually work, I was looking for a reason for why I acted the way I do, why I preferred to stay up late then going to sleep because my daydream wasn't over, why I didn't take interest in the things I was supposed to, why I freaked out over academic failure, why I fidget with my hands, and can't focus on the things I didn't like, why I hyper-focused on the things I did like, why I lost interest in things so quickly.

I never did figure out what was wrong with me.

I believed as time passed, I was only faking the feeling, that I did fit in, that it was all in my head, but that just made it worst, because I was harder to accept.

So instead of acting childish, I started acting of what my impression of adults was, I was told I was so mature for my age, it's so funny how that can suddenly change to "grow up" "how are you this dumb?" "stop acting like a child."

I never did wanna grow up, I just wanted to be taken seriously, that's why I got so excited as a child for my birthday because it was another year closer to being taken seriously, but now, since I was eleven, I get sad on my birthday, cause that meant I was growing up, that meant I was to become boring, and that meant it would even become less acceptable for me to be the way I am.

When quarantine came along, my daydreams became longer but duller, it was no longer a thing I did once in a while for fun or when I was bored, it was an escape from how alone I felt not that it was any different from before quarantine, but I felt more alone than ever, cause that meant I was alone with my thoughts.

When I was surrounded by people, I felt alone, cause I felt like I couldn't hold up a conversation with at least one of them, my topics were too boring for the rest of them, I was alone in a room with sweaty bodies and loud noises, trying to at least focus on one of the noises, but at least when I was surrounded by people, it wasn't quiet, I wasn't thinking about myself, I was thinking about how to be more fun, and just trying to focus on listening, now I was just alone, in a room, in silence but my mind was louder than anything else.

It felt worst than all the other times I was alone with my thoughts when I had moved to a different school and had to make new friends, the worst part about moving from place to place, is to have to leave behind all that work and effort you put into being accepted, and into getting friends, just to have to start all over.

I think my point here is, I've never quite fit in, I've never quite been normal, and I will never be normal.

People always say to think outside the box, when in reality that's not what they want, they want you to behave and stay inside the box, they want you to help make the box bigger, so that it's harder for the people who do want to rebel, for the people who do think outside the box to overcome the difficulties of being different.

But I've learned, that I will never be normal, that I'll never be quite perfect, that I'll never be the perfect twin, but I can be better if I learn to embrace it, because, I may be sad that I'll never fit in, but it would be worst to lose this amazing thing I have,

My "childishness."


About the author

Parker Marin Velez

"You probably think this world is a dream come true, but you're wrong." - The Cat, Coraline.

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