Comments Off on Labels Do Not Make The Person
Hello there, my name is Augustus. I am a nineteen-year-old Roman Catholic Caucasian male. I am the middle child of a middle-class family with an average build and a 3.5 grade point average. I’m the “funny one” at home, “the tall one” in class and the “the new one” at the plumbing company where I just started working part-time.
Apparently I’m likable because I have over one thousand followers and friends on Facebook and Twitter. Apparently I’m important because I get lots of applications for loans and the US Army wants me. Apparently I am valuable because I have a bank account, a cell phone and a credit card.
After my eighteenth birthday, I became a voter, a high school graduate and my status changed from being a minor to an adult. This year I became an employed taxpaying vegetarian freshman college student and now I am in a bit of a crisis.
I don’t know who I am.
None of the ways other people use to describe me, and I mean none, excite me or make me feel happy and I really don’t understand why.
I work hard to do everything right. I am a good son, a good student and a good citizen. I am inoffensive and predictable. I follow all the rules. Finally, I can easily be placed in a respectable category with other young educated, hard working adults but I don’t feel any great sense of achievement about it. As a matter of fact, I’m noticing that I don’t feel anything at all and I’m starting to worry that this isn’t where it’s at for me.
Argh! I can’t afford to be different! I don’t dare find out what excites me because if it isn’t this it might turn out to be unicycling or building doghouses with bottle tops!
Why, why, why can’t my brain just shut up and do what I’m supposed to do? There’s nothing to think about, really. Everything’s been laid out for me since I was born: who to be, what to buy, and who to even friggin’ like. As a matter of fact, I should be more grateful but noooooo! I have to go and make life complicated for myself, I have to start questioning things and considering alternatives…damn it!
I don’t see a lot of my friends having the same worries, they seem pretty hassle-free uploading photos of their feet on Instagram. My uncle always tells me to just lay low in life, work hard and get a pension.
Maybe I should talk with my class counselor or my church’s priest about my problem? I bet they know how to help straighten disturbed young people like me. Whatever I do, I don’t dare let my parents know about this because they will just worry about who I am going to be.
Or maybe I should just go for a long walk. I bet I can figure it out for myself, just me and the birds and the breeze and the trees.