The Adolescent Bucket List, and My Failure to Check the Boxes

The final girl. A classic slasher/horror trope, the final girl is the one that escapes the jaws of death, defeats the killer or evil, and emerges victorious from the bloodbath. How does she do this? Easy. She doesn't engage in any of the behaviors that her teen counterparts do. No smoking, drinking, drugs, and certainly no sex. Think Jamie Lee Curtis' character in Halloween. The other teenagers all get axed (usually after having sex) but Laurie, the pure, virtuous babysitter, is allowed to survive (for now...). It's a misogynistic and unrealistic way of looking at the world, to equate partaking in anything mildly scandalous with deserving death.

I'm the final girl. Or it feels like it sometimes. Except this time, making it out alive without even a scratch or having engaged in anything rebellious doesn't feel like a victory. It just feels wrong.

It started in seventh grade when my friends and I began to attend these public dances at a local middle school. We'd go for the fun of dressing up, to dance, hoping to meet someone. At the age of 13, I knew that these dances were the home of what could possibly be the most shocking act I was aware of: hooking up. Remember, this is hooking up in the seventh grade sense; just making out, I guess. I never got the chance.

My mind at these dances was populated by contradicting thoughts. Is this something I want to take part in or not? One part of me craved the experience, a first foray in the world of adolescent sexuality. Another part worried about the logistics. How was I supposed to get myself into a situation where hooking up happened? Did I have to talk to my partner? Would I screw up while kissing them and make a fool of myself? What would people say about me? In the days before I was diagnosed with anxiety, these questions tormented me and banished me from the world of preteen make out sessions. I heard my friends tell their hookup stories and wished that I could have the courage and the experience that they did. I stopped going to the dances, because spending a night fighting my anxiety was too painful.

And then people started drinking. It was like hooking up all over again, but with added risk. This time, if your parents found out you would really get into trouble. I avoided scenes that I knew would involve drinking, because I was scared to try it, and scared to be judged for not trying it. I'm not saying that drinking makes you brave or noble or anything, but I felt ashamed at my Puritanical ways. It's not like I think drinking and sex are sins or, like, the lure of the devil or something. My aversion to them is merely personal, a self-reflective insecurity that shuts me out of taking risks. A combination of being afraid of the act itself and how people will perceive my fear of the aforementioned act holds me back. I'd rather be safe than sorry; rather stay home alone than reveal my diffidence.

Because I've barely experienced anything in my seventeen years of life, I feel like I've failed teenagehood. What teenager has never been to a party, never snuck out of the house, or never been hungover? Have I failed some duty I owe to myself by living by the rules? I can't say that these years have been boring-- I've found plenty of entertaining and exciting things to do with my free time. They just don't involve the things I feel they're supposed to-- crushes, first kisses, breaking minor laws. Isn't they're some adolescent bucket list that I'm supposed to have checked off by now?

I don't mean to advocate either way for these things. Health class 101 taught me that you don't need to drink, smoke, or hook up to be cool. And in no way do I aim to shame those who do do this stuff. I mean, they're the majority. And it's completely alright. I merely mean to say that sometimes I feel like I'm doing my teenage years wrong. My life will never reflect the teen movies I was raised on. 

The final girl. Sometimes I wish I had some scars. Some mistakes I made, the trouble I got in. Final girl feels to naïve, too safe. 

Talking to a friend about this, she reminded me that I'm young. There's time for all of this, and there's no right way to do life. There's no right way to be a teenager. I guess she's right, but I can't help but feel wrong, like I've failed by making it out of high school with no regrets, asides from regretting that I have no regrets.

I don't have an answer for other teenagers that feel like me. I don't know if I'll feel like I've spent these years well. But if I can impart something on you, it's that I hope you don't doubt yourself, whatever you're doing. I hope you're able to do what you want to do with your adolescence, without being afraid of what others think of you, and without fearing what you think of yourself.