So Glad to be Older

When I hear people talk about their high school years as being the best years of their lives I worry about them. A lot.

I wouldn’t wish high school days (or primary school for that matter) on even my worst enemy. Those were years of severe trauma.

Now don’t get me wrong, I had a pretty comfortable youth. I wasn’t abused or made to work in a sweat shop or anything like that. In fact I had a very cushy and privileged time of it. But I was an angry, depressed, little and insignificant (with pimples and braces) brute.

It is a wonder my family still love me and I still have some amazing friends from those days. In fact the reason I am writing this now is because we were talking about those days recently, and I got to thinking that I have some people to thank and lots to apologise to.

In Grade 9 (when boys smell worse than their attitudes) at the age of 14 turning 15, the only person or thing I hated more than everybody and everything was myself. Now, those of you who are reading this, may think this a typical Jared ‘over’ statement, but do yourself a favour – just try and think about your Grade 9 year. Yes, that year you beat up your siblings relentlessly and drew anarchy signs on your space case; that year when you thought your parents were the most pathetic creatures to roam the earth; that year that you would have killed for a pair of jeans with the right brand name. You remember? It was awful.

I think I was a particularly nasty little thing. And now I want to apologise to a few people – perhaps too late. To my parents and my sisters, I am so sorry. It must be such a hurtful thing to have your own flesh become such an angry little creature. I think it is because of this that I am so very scared of ever having children myself. To all my little cousins – you guys had to deal with a lot of nasty too. I am sorry.

I am not sure how they all managed to survive me during those years, but somehow they did.