Edge of Seventeen

Many people today have “main character syndrome” and see themselves as a constant protagonist in the story. I’ve always seen myself in a supporting role. I’ve always felt like I existed just to fill the cracks in my family and old friend groups. I was the giver, the responsible one, the “parent” of the friend group. I never asked for anything, not even when my mother would directly ask me what I wanted for my birthday. Asking for things means asking my family to sacrifice even more when it’s already tough to make the rent each month. It means guaranteed disappointment from my peers.

I grew up to enter a string of terrible friendships and relationships that reinforced this idea that I existed solely to serve everyone else. My value only came from what I could provide for others. As soon as I needed anything in return, I became a burden to them. Since I was young, I’ve been punished for not smiling sweetly when I’ve been internally wrestling with the value of my own life. People lose interest when their human appliance stops serving its utility with a perfectly pleasant smile plastered on.

My opinions were always wrong. My voice always had some undetectable tone they don’t like. Don’t I know that my job is to be the manic pixie dream-girl, the high-earning career woman, and the docile housewife all in one? “Needs” are just complaints from bratty, nagging women who fail to be happy with the crumbs of attention and affection they’re thrown.

There was a time in my life when I still had hope for a bright, fulfilling future ahead. I believed in being loved fiercely. I drove through my town with the windows down, blasting Edge of Seventeen on the evening before my 18th birthday. I waited in line for hours to see my favorite bands and made friends with the other misfits who understood my heart. I was loved. I saw a beautiful life ahead of me.

I didn’t appreciate it at the time. I’ve spent the years since regretting it. I hadn’t yet received these scars from relationships I only entered because I was so afraid of saying “no.” I continue putting myself last today, but in that moment, singing Stevie Nicks and looking ahead at a beautiful picture of my future that I’ve struggled to hold onto, I finally felt like I deserved to be a priority, too.

I wish I could construct one of those Pensieve bowls from Harry Potter. Lord knows I’ve shed enough tears to fill it. I would dip my head in and feel that moment again — that feeling of mattering, of having a real purpose beyond serving others. I miss feeling hopeful about the road ahead. I would drink in that delicious drop of joy and hold onto the memory forever. I would never let that feeling go.