Daniel Polanco

Professor Seeley-Sherwood

ENG170-29

10 September 2021

Just a Dumb Kid

I’ve noticed how much I’ve dropped the ball in recent times. Whether it’s failing an exam or missing out on good opportunities that could’ve benefitted me. Currently, it feels like a twenty-ton boulder rests on my neck because of my schedule that consists of a job that doesn’t pay me enough, an education where I feel like I’m falling behind with every waking second, and a newly blooming music career where my biggest fear is that I’ll fail, yet, I somehow still manage to stay up past 1 am, with the air conditioner loudly blasting freezing cold air. Listening to albums like “Blonde” on repeat just for the spark of creativity I need to disappear in my endless library of useless knowledge in my head. Watching as that single line blinks on a Word document, I think to myself.: How did I get here? Was it the hours, days, weeks, or years I spent living under the roof my parents bought when I wasn’t even old enough to read? Or was it my predisposition to follow along with whatever orders people told me like a trained police dog? Recently, I’ve noted that maybe the problem is where I stand in society, whether it’s a first-generation United States citizen, a minority, a boy, or all of the above.

Before I continue, this isn’t an admission of weakness. My pride simply won’t allow it. Rather, think of this as a character study of a flawed individual. One who is too prideful to admit defeat and too shameful to admit guilt. An individual who was practically bred to believe that just because I am my parents’ child that I must follow along, not complain, and do as I’m told, even if what I’m being told doesn’t make any sense in the slightest. I noticed a pattern of inferiority when that somehow carried over into my social life. Where people would view me as the runt of the group because I expressed myself a certain way around them. Maybe the past doesn’t matter. Maybe I should focus on the present. After all, that’s what every wise person will tell you. Even now, it seems to be a vicious cycle that I can’t escape from. A cycle of wanting to be the best version of myself out of a selfish desire to say, “I told you so!” and ultimately fail.

This morning, I asked my mom if I could quit my job, which isn’t something someone would normally ask their parents. Why do I need to ask her about a job that I work at? The hours are hell, the pay is abysmal, and the environment is depressing. I was met with anger and frustration from her after I asked. At the time, I thought nothing of it, but looking back, I remembered what she had said in her fit of rage against me: “You don’t get to quit until I say so.” That’s when I realized that I’m tired. Tired of being a secondary character in my own motion picture. Even if my own parents believe that I should follow along with what they say simply because they said so. Based on what I’ve said, you might think to yourself that maybe I’ve blown things out of proportion simply for the amusement of the reader. Maybe I have. Ultimately, there’s no way for you to tell. To know why exactly anyone is treated the way they are would be like scavenging the universes in our galaxies. Because to know the true reason why people are the way they are might as well be impossible. How would I know? I’m just a dumb kid. Over time, I think I slowly began to realize the problem was that I was looked down because of my placement in the family. As the youngest, I had to follow in the footsteps my older sister had paved for me. As a boy, I had to enjoy everything my father enjoyed and if I wasn’t, how was I meant to become a man later in life? How am I meant to provide for my non-existent, future-tense family? I’m not sure. These familial ideals my family put on me cause so much stress that sometimes I need to catch my breath.

That single moment in my life made me realize where I stood with other people. Somehow, I am always looked down upon, yet it wasn’t until that moment that I realized, unless I do something about it and change some or all aspects of my life, then this will never change. Frankly, after 19 years of age, I’d say it’s about time something changed for the better.