Following on from what I said in 'Half term Horrors' the builders had finished the driveway ,it's Saturday so I should get an uninterrupted lie in right? wrong, again. At 8:55am the squeaking started. My dad must have some serious vendetta against my sleeping, he stood directly outside my room and began to clean my windows.It didn't sound like he was making an attempt to be delicate about it either.
The sheer, splitting squeaks only lasted about 10 minutes then were replaced by the muffled sound of my elderly next door neighbour.As soon as I strained, in my sleepy state, to make out the words 'how was your holiday?' fall from her frail mouth ,I knew a storm was brewing. My parents recently went away to Australia for a month, leaving my twin sister and I to fend for ourselves. At first we were just getting by, but towards the end of the month the temptation got too strong and we had a few 'gatherings' and one event you could class as a 'party'.
Anyway I'll cut to the chase, a few people were sick outside the front of the house and my neighbours complained, threatening to tell our parents as soon as they got back.So, at 9:05am the stink bomb was dropped, contaminating our parents prestine image of us. My initial thoughts were 'bitch, absolute bitch, we're young, let us have a good time!' then I began to empathise. They're retired, trying to enjoy the last of their lives together, the last thing they want is some terrible teens disturbing their sleep. Then I felt really guilty and just wanted to go back to sleep a pretend the potential bollocking we would later receive was just a horrible dream.
I just couldn't settle, I started thinking about life and ,as dismal as is sounds, how short it is. How is it fair that young people get to have all the fun? If middle aged people go out clubbing, you know what all the young'uns are thinking 'what the hell are they doing here?' but it shouldn't be that way. It's the middle aged people who are working, dealing with more stress then we probably ever have, who probably need a good night out to take their minds off work and the harsh reality of adult life. Yet it's the underage (usually) teenagers , who have the least amount of money ,probably borrowing it off their middle-aged parents in order to go out and have a good time. Something seems a little wrong. Surely your life should keep getting better so you die at your happiest?
But I guess like most things, life is a cycle, vicious as it is. We're born crying, complaining, and dependent on others to meet our basic needs. And for those of us who become frail, aged, and easily annoyed ,that's how we'll leave, in a similar state to how we came.
This post is a little morose but I suppose the only way in which we can accept death is by accepting life, and that takes an entire lifetime in itself.
''Dream as if you'll live forever. Live as if you'll die today.'' - James Dean