I’ve recently heard a fair amount of people saying that they hate children. Although I don’t really have a contention with this, it kind of made me think about my relationship with children, etc. I guess I don’t really like children all that much either, but I definitely don’t hate them. I mean, I know that they’re still developing, and I respect and understand that, but this doesn’t change that they are annoying, immature, and sometimes infuriating. I don’t know if this goes for all children, but the ones I know are all major assholes by universal standards. And again, I don’t begrudge them this, it’s really not their fault, but again, I still don’t like hanging out with them. The fact that they aren’t really to blame for being egotistical, narcissistic, annoying little bitch-faces doesn’t change the fact that they are all of those things. I mean, that doesn’t mean that circumstances don’t call for you to treat them right, but if anyone else acts like a child, you tend to dislike them for it. Would you choose someone who acts like a child as a friend? Of course you wouldn’t, because you don’t like that in a person! The only difference here is that if a grown person were to act like a child, you wouldn’t have sympathy for them, or patience either; because they don’t particularly have to act like children. So the fact of the matter is that I like what I like, and where it comes from has only to do with how I react to something, not how much I care for it. For this reason, I don’t like children very much (most of the time) but I’m still kind and patient towards them.
Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I harbor any kind of resentment for them, or that I blame them in any way. If a kid runs up and kicks my leg, that doesn’t mean he’ll be the next Jack the Ripper, or if he is obnoxiously mean to his friends he’s not going to become Hitler. All it means is that it’s a child, and that he hasn’t really matured enough to have a refined personality. In him is a mold, a potential to be a more mature person in the future, but he just hasn’t filled this mold yet. So as children, people aren’t really themselves, which is why I see it as more of a condition than a vice.
The thing about children is that they’re so blissfully ignorant of the world that they don’t know just how stupid they are. I mean, it’s actually kind of pitiful to see how oblivious they can be, going about their lives being obnoxious, rude, or otherwise foolish and not even realizing it! They’ll realize it one day, sure, but in the mean time they sure do make idiots out of themselves. I remember when I was a kid. I was always self-assured, hypocritical, hyperactive… I actually think I liked my childhood, but today it isn’t a fond memory of mine. Though at the time I would do stupid things and just laugh, and think I was funny, I realize now that some of them were genuinely stupid. Those memories of doing or saying stupid crap, like trying to come onto my mother, are now freaking humiliating to me. It hurts to even remember, I can hardly stand thinking about what a little prick I was.
First off, there were my imaginary games. I would always play pretend with myself when I was younger, enacting epic battles in my room, and going between different settings, characters, etc. The thing is that I would always follow the same imaginary story for a while, pretending that I was imagining a whole imaginary book, even though I often just imagined the same thing over and over again. And it would always be based off of whatever I liked at the time, too, like Star Wars, or Lord of the Rings, or a videogame, or anything. I would literally imagine the adventures of a protagonist who was invariably perfect in every way. He was a genius, as strong as a bull, devilishly handsome, never did or said anything wrong, and everyone liked him… I would seriously have a single antagonist who disliked him, and make him inferior in every way. The story would consist of arbitrary battles or scenarios involving whatever my whims commanded. There’d be a battle on the moon if I felt like it, there would be a mellow-dramatic love scene in which an almost perfect female protagonist fell for the perfect male protagonist (if I was in the mood for that), or there would be a god damn song and dance scene if I heard a song I liked! There are some who may have found this cute, but when this was still going on in like 5th grade, you know something wasn’t quite normal. I personally wish I could go back in time and give me a hard kick in my vacant little head.
The second part of my childhood that I dislike is how oblivious I have always been. I mean, even since kindergarten I have been spacing out in class, and missing important details. I never had any idea what was going on, I would ask questions the teacher had just explained, and I would fail to know common knowledge all the time. (Like how many are in a dozen, for example.) This was mostly harmless for most of my early school years, though I can still think of plenty of embarrassing moments from my 3rd grade school year and below. But sometimes it got very harmful. Here’s an example, I had no idea what the deal with 9/11 really was when it happened. Sure, I got the basic concept, that a guy flew a plane into a building and he was evil and all of that. I guess the gravity of it, though, never really hit me until long after it happened. I just never took it all that seriously, and I’m sure you can imagine how that might cause problems. In 5th grade, we were doing group posters for something or another, I don’t remember what, and my group’s poster had a sky scraper on it. For some reason, at the time, I thought it’d be just hilarious to draw a plane flying into it… Well, an incredibly offended homeroom, a stunned teacher, and a visit to the counselor’s office later; I finally realized that 9/11 must have been some kind of big deal, and that I should probably have watched my mouth better. Yeah, it still hurts to remember.
I guess the last thing I’ll mention about my childhood that I don’t like is just the type of person I was. It’s hard to fully describe just how messed up I was, but I guess the best way to describe it is melodramatic, and over-emotional. I can think of a few examples off the top of my head. Whenever I had anyone in my class I didn’t like, (they were usually popular) I would think of them as the embodiment of evil, and take it upon myself to get into a row with them whenever I could, often unknowingly making an idiot out of myself. Also, I would never let things go if someone did something I didn’t like, even if it wasn’t really that mean, I’d still get upset. Like for example, one time a kid laughed at me when someone else told me that the eagle he was studying was bigger than the one I was, and I was very indignant about it. So, to get revenge, when something just slightly bad happened to him, I laughed (a forced laugh, trying to really make it sound cruel) and he said “That’s not funny,” a true statement. Being the little moron I was, though, I responded “Oh yeah, well neither was my eagle!” And then anyone who was looking on at the time was reminded, yet again, that I was retarded.
Another aspect of my personality is how melodramatic I would always get about my damn friend. At the time, I only really had one friend, and I was so incredibly freaking possessive over him, it’s not even funny. Wherever he would go, I would go, and whenever he did something that didn’t involve me, I would get offended. In fact, I would get so offended that I would have a “break up” with him, and get absolutely furious, exchange shouted insults, and then later exchange apologies with him. On multiple occasions I would feel like someone else was “stealing” him from me and I would hate that person with every fiber of my being, making him my arch nemesis. To be fair, I later came to be best friends with one of them, and another turned out to really be a genuine asshole who no one really likes to-date, but that doesn’t excuse my overreaction. I would cry, I would yell, I would think it was the end of the world. I would go as far as to say that all of the drama I went through in middle and high school doesn’t even compare to what I went through in those years of elementary. Well, maybe the drama was worse, but my reaction to that was complete Zen compared to how much I blew up back in my earlier years. It is the memory of this part of my life that just makes me want to punch my past self, and I honestly feel embarrassed to have ever been that way.
The final part of my personality that I so dislike, and even disliked at the time, was my hyper disposition and my sense of humor. I only group these into one because between the two of them, I made an image of myself that I came to loathe over time. Basically, I was the type of person who was always making jokes and doing crazy, hyper things. Two problems existed, first being that my jokes sucked. A lot. The second was that I never knew when to stop. In time, I learned to be funny or sense when I wasn’t being funny, or not care, but this used to make me hate myself. I was such a spazz that it got to the point where at times it looked like I was retarded, because I would make a joke, then take it way too far, go crazy with it, and just look like an idiot, the joke having stopped being funny long ago. I eventually learned to calm this down a little, but it took years of conscious effort on my part, and it used to be the thing that I hated about myself the very most.
So how do I look at this past of mine? Well, I don’t like it at all. When asked what I miss most about my childhood, I will invariably say nothing, and that I’m glad it’s over. Childhood, to me, is like a condition… At least mine felt that way. It’s as if ignorance and all of my other flaws were simply symptoms to a potent disease, which I have since recovered from. I know that it is these experiences that somehow shaped me to be who I am, but still, I wish I did not have the memory of my childhood following me around. To be honest, I find it haunting to know that I used to be how it was. It not only angers, but also shames me to know that the oblivious, over-reactive, and often rude child in my memories… Was actually me. The fact that that the person I am now is the same as that one of so many years ago, still awes and disgusts me. Even among my actions of a single year ago, I find plenty that do not sit well with me in retrospect, and the same will be the case in a year. I can only hope that once I’m through with puberty, I won’t have to deal with my mind so quickly shifting about, but I think I can say that the person I am now is more or less the person that I am for good. At least I don’t expect to change as much between now and when I’m completely mature, as I have over the last half of a decade. And so, I am who I am. I see as clearly now as I ever have, and I will understand even more tomorrow. Childhood is, indeed, like a disease, and I am just one of many of those who are on their way to a miraculous full recovery, from the most devastating condition known to man.
Sincerely,
The Ellipsis
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