How to Not Get Through Your Teenage Years

Prologue

People say being different is good. They say difference should be excercised in society because if everyone were the same, it would be boring. If there were different people out there, there would be a wide variety of people, giving the general human population diversity and each person their own uniqueness. But, do they even consider for a second how tough being different is? Probably, but not enough to genuinely care.

Consider this example. An Indian girl, fresh out of middle school moves to a foreign country. She has always been taught to blend in with the crowd, not to bring attention to herself, as it is considered a shame in her culture. Now, people might think this is weird, but it is the Indian way of living. They live differently, hence giving the world diversity. The same applies for any other community or race in the world as well.  But, I shall not go into it further, as it would take a few hundred pages to describe each country's culture and ways of going about life.

 Wearing her long pants to cover up herself and tying her hair back in a braid like she usualy does, she steps out modestly into the foreign country. She is shocked at the culture of this foreign country. Everyhwere she looks it is girls flaunting their thin, fit bodies in the shortest shorts they can find and crop tops that expose their flat bellies. Boys swear and scream at each other, laughing loudly, whistling after the girls. They go around with boys on late night romps to clubs : partying and drinking all night. The girls her age all want to aspire to be the same 'party' girl when they grow old enough. More than half of them do not give a shit about their parents or family. 

The young Indian girl cannot belive this. She would rather die than forsake her own strict but loving parents. So she continues on with being herself, wearing her long pants, braiding her hair, wearing her traditional clothes whenever she can, earning her odd looks from her peers. After a few weeks, she is laughing stock of her year group in her school. Most of the elder classes know about her as well. As she sits alone underneath a big tree on the school grounds, children who are her age and older point to her and whisper rumors and jokes, sniggering behind their palms, thinking that the girl cannot hear them.

Now what I am trying to say is that she is being different in her own way, in the way she taught how to be back in India. However, that goes against the standards of the foreign country that she is staying in, and so she is made fun of. This happened to me as well, except it wasn't like this example I just provided.

I was 12 when I moved to Australia. And because of the difference in ages between when kids started kindergarten from where I came from, I was forced to repeat a fucking year. I was repeating Year 7, and worse, it was considered as primary school in Australia. Let's just say I wasn't very happy with this arrangement, but I then realised that some things were more important than that. But I realised that too late. Sometimes the most important things seem inconsequential to you; pushed to the side because of your own 'problems'. 

If you are a teen and reading this, please, don't be depressed over that cute guy who just won't notice you, or that best friend who ditched you to hang out with the bitches and now doesn't even talk to you anymore. You'll learn to get over it. Okay admit it. You're probably  thinking, 'It isn't that easy. You try it1'

Believe me, I went through such stuff as well. Remember, I was a teenager as well? I know it's hard, but I got through it, and now, it's not even a big deal, because I have actual friends who would go through hell and back for me and my boyfriend, who is much better looking then than cute boy from Year 10, has a way better personality and actually CARES about me.

My story isn't anything special, but not many people like sharing about their awkward teenage years and what shit they went through. However, all my 'shit' experiences; every single one, have toughened me up, and I can look back on them and laugh. And now I'm sharing them with you. My name is Celeste Hayden and I am now 20 years old. I hope you enjoy my accurate description of hell, that is to say, my teenage years. And how I dealt with it.