What a banger of a title that is, right? Today's post is going to be a little different from previous posts, a little more personal, a little more unfiltered, but hopefully equally impactful. This essay has been a work in progress for a while, and I initially came up with the idea for it while taking my GCSE exams in April. Originally a messy rant, most of it was written when I was overwhelmed from exam preparations, socialising with others, and just the whole teenage experience in general. It's safe to say that this wasn't exactly my most refined piece of work, but after months and months of workshopping and rewriting, staring at the Google Doc until I was finally able to express my emotions in a more concise, tasteful way, I've managed to make something I'm proud of. I believe captures the authenticity and sentiment of my earlier teen angst, while being slightly more reflective, thanks to the power of hindsight. I hope you enjoy :)
FOMO, Blueprints & Growing Pains
Nicola Pak
I remember exactly when the epiphany hit me: mid-March 2023, standing amongst a crowd of my closest friends, cutting open my 16th birthday cake. With pink tinsel tangled in my hair, blue food colouring staining my top and vanilla buttercream smeared on my wide smile, it hit me that I was finally, undoubtedly, entering the peak of my youth. From my dad sharing his stories about his formative years in boarding school to my mom talking about her carefree, joyful teen years, I had always waited patiently for the day when it was finally my turn to live the classic teenage experience. Similar to Rapunzel locked up in her tower, I often wondered about when my life would begin, and could not wait to experience the naive yet exhilarating passage of time that's so often celebrated in the movies. Whether it's the protagonist of a Young Adult Fantasy novel, embarking on a quest or discovering her supernatural powers as soon as she turns sixteen, or the kind of main character in teenage romance movies, undergoing a process of self-development, soul-searching, and yes, a heart-fluttering, breath-taking love story, I was half expecting some kind of Fairy Godmother to pop out of the bushes and march straight into my Sweet Sixteen, strap a dagger onto my thigh and telling me to get moving. With so much to do, so much to discover, so many sights to see and memories to make, the pressure was on. What's the point of having a life half-lived? I was determined to seek fulfilment, to explore the endless possibilities that had suddenly opened up.
The next two weeks only seemed to further fortify this notion. Right after my party, I immediately caught COVID (for the first time!) and was quarantined in my room for the following two weeks. In fact, having had my Sweet Sixteen in advance, the exact minute when I did become another year older was also spent within the confines of my bedroom, with a raging fever and a dripping nose. Not the romanticised teenage lifestyle, indeed. After recovering (a painstaking two weeks later, after I finally tested negative), I was sure that the brief period of mundane sequestration was only a blip in my adolescence, and I would make up for the lost time by living life twice as intensely.
I'm currently writing these words in June, nearly three months later, and it's safe to say that unfortunately, the inactivity of my life has yet to disappear. This could be attributed to my lengthy exam period, which sucked up both my time and my energy, or perhaps the fact that I'm a natural homebody, and the whole idea of living at large just doesn't quite agree with my love for reading, latte-making and The Great British Bake-off. Now, with summer vacation ticking closer and closer, I can't help but shake the feeling of impending doom, and the weeks without meticulous schedules or well-planned routines only amplify my restlessness and fear of boredom.
Why am I so afraid of these unplanned weeks, which are rife with opportunities for spontaneity? Easy. The answer is FOMO. One of my closest friends is going to Vienna with her orchestra, to compete against other talented musicians. Another is headed to Peru, on a mission trip with other energetic youths, to provide healthcare and medical support to disadvantaged communities. These are the kind of experiences that I long to have, the kind of experiences that I just know will leave a mark on your life, a taster of all the potential adventures to come. I’m heading to my lifelong bucket list destination Seoul, so my FOMO is completely unwarranted, and there really are no grounds nor reason for envy. But jealousy can do that to you, a green-eyed serpent slinking into your life, taking up precious space and energy before you even realise it's there. The arch-nemesis of gratitude, sometimes overtakes rational judgement, only tainting your thoughts with doubts and frustrations.
I can't help it, the constant need for comparison. Similar to the protagonists in a teen Netflix Original series, it’s almost as if everyone in my life is following some predetermined timeline that I’ve wildly deviated from. Back at the start of 9th Grade, we were all rosy-cheeked, impressionable youth filled with childlike optimism. None of us knew our place in the world yet, hadn’t seriously considered what we would do, who we would be in the future, equally clueless and naive, navigating the choppy waters of High School together. Barely even a few months later, my friends had all progressed to confident teens, enthusiastically gracing me with stories of first relationships, first loves, first kisses, and yet here I was, watching from the sidelines like an extra of a movie. I’d always maintained a steadfast approach to the way I saw relationships, and when presented with the choice, my decision was to always stay unattached, making the most of my high school experience without being tied to another person. But why was it that when all of my closest friends were in relationships, I started to second-guess my so carefully cultivated view on the matter? I felt like I was falling behind, lacking experience or quite simply, just not good enough for others.
If my 9th Grade self saw the insecure, envious Nicola now, I’m sure she’d give me a flick to the forehead, telling me to pull myself together, and to stop moping around like a 17th century damsel in distress. I wish I could rediscover the unwavering confidence I had then. After all, growing up wasn’t as fun as I thought it would be.
But then again, maybe one belief I had to let go of was the notion that all this living at large was defined through messy parties, rebellious teenage tomfoolery or all-consuming relationships. Perhaps this was what I was led to believe through teen movies or books, but if I was being completely honest, wasn’t exactly what I wanted for myself. Sure, there are significant milestones that accompanied the classic high schooler experience; first relationships, first kisses, first loves. But it isn’t as if I’d only get my high school diploma after checking off all of these tasks, like some kind of bucket list. It’s not like following my own interest, my own path, makes me any less worthy. So often, we’re so preoccupied with the actions of others, and consequently, how our own actions compare, that we fail to stop to see the bigger picture, that the marathon that we once thought was a competition was actually a team relay. Of course, adolescence is a beautifully awkward stage of life, the springboard of self-discovery and self-actualisation. Of course, spending your formative years cooped up in libraries and bedrooms singularly focused on grades and revision won’t lead to a healthy or pleasant teenage experience. But it’s all about balance. For every prom, there’s a lazy afternoon, spent watching the television at home. For every senior trip, there’s countless hours spent at the local Starbucks, doing last minute cramming for a forgotten assignment. Just because it may be more mundane, doesn’t make it any less integral to the high school experience.
Above all, growing up isn’t an instant process. While many adults like to make it seem as if teenagers are wild, untamable heathens, an alien breed filled with surging hormones and Red Bull, it’s not like there’s a clear transition from innocent, carefree childhood to rebellious anarchy, or a rapid transformation to sensible, responsible adulthood. Sometimes, we linger on the past, or fret over the future, without truly living life in the moment. One of my favourite songs, Spread My Wings by Stray Kids, echoes this exact sentiment, using witty lyricisms to describe the feeling of longing to seem grown up, and to have the freedom and liberties of an adult, while having an underlying worry for what the future holds, too immature to handle actual responsibilities. Some of the amusing analogies in the verses describe this feeling as swapping out sneakers for dress shoes, reading the news in an effort to seem adultlike and professional, or how the weight of new textbooks cannot compare to the burden of actual adult responsibilities. Instead of blindly sprinting towards a faraway future, or dwelling over an unchangeable past, I’d like to take a step back, and simply enjoy the view, experiencing life as it happens. Or in the words of my favourite lyricists, I want to live my life naturally, to fly with my young wings, spread my wings.
I want to live in the now, not pretending to be a ‘grown’ version of myself. I want to let go of expectations, to live without the need to constantly chase unattainable goals, to adhere to the timeline of others. And even if I’m bad at it, even if growing up is a messy, complex process, I want to look back on my teen years, and feel fulfilled, to feel satisfied, to feel proud of how far I’ve come.
Because after all, this is only the beginning.