Hey folks. Let me start out by saying that I hate writing fiction, but as I pride myself as a bit of a writer, I figured I'd take a stab a little short story to see what you guys think. Read and hopefully enjoy.
"Rebellious Teenager" by Sirrus
I never wanted to fit into a "stereotypical" anything roll, but as a wiser man than myself once said, some just have it thrust upon them. Simply put, I was the rebellious teenager. I had made the decision many moons ago to not mentally subscribe to any ideal or opinion that wasn't a direction I wanted to be headed in life. As it turns out, this included many things that the stereotypical teenager rebels against.
I grew my hair long, I didn't shave. I didn't put any contrived effort into how I dressed; in fact a manufactured image was the antithesis of what I was trying to accomplish. The latest mutation of the idea of a rebellious teenager that has taken many faces through the generations but has remained omnipresent as long as people have felt the need to define themselves as individuals was in my opinion a simple desire to be the opposite of the established way of thinking.
But in my generation, it seems, this redefining of oneself and the adolescent need to rebel was repackaged and sold in a consumerist, capitalist free-for-all. A "unique self image" was something that could be taken off of the shelf and purchased. This is what I needed to get away from and, in a sense, what I decided to "rebel against". Rebelling against manufactured rebellion.
Unfortunately this does not earn you many friends in the jungle of a public high school where it seems like every person walking around me was just a mirror reflecting the intricately designed corporate ideal of what teenagers were all about. Obviously someone had done their job right, because it appeared to be working beautifully.
All this personal reflection led to a great feeling of self-awareness. I was instantly and somewhat frighteningly aware of how the people around me were like notches in the gears of an elaborate, well oiled clock with no hands attached to it- I didn't see the point of this dynamo of social nothingness. Without hesitation, the second we were in high school we had stuff fed down our throats about the importance of college and degrees and worldly success- for what? To go become accountants and lawyers and CEOs and very successful individuals that have to grapple with the question "did I lead a fulfilling life?" as they wind down to death.
This all came to head during a presentation from some group about the importance and history of education. I don't know what compelled me to do it, but I stood up and walked on stage, shooing the person at the podium away from mic. I cleared my throat and started speaking words that barely had time to materialize before they exited my mouth.
"This once beautiful ideal of education and betterment has become institutionalized garbage bent on turning out productive but unfulfilled workers. The clothes you're wearing were designed by what you're subliminally trying to subvert by putting them on every morning. The music you listened to was written and performed by entrepreneurs, not artists. If you want to learn something I suggest you go to a library or teach it to yourself using the greatest invention of the 20th century and the very reason we call this the post-modern era- the internet. Believe it or not, the internet is more than Facebook. It is more or less the human race's collective knowledge and most of you have access to it in your pockets right now. Please "wake up" so to speak, find out what you believe in and what you truly enjoy then devote your life to doing that so you can die with no regrets. Thank you."
I then exited the auditorium in front of a speechless crowd. I couldn't and never would know it, but they had been unconsciously thinking the same thing the whole time.
Meh. It's alright. It may have gotten a little bogged down in a lot of my personal views, but I didn't want to write some boring story about a race car driver or astronaut or solider or something like that.
