Overwhelming yet euphoric. One minute you feel lonely and the next you feel alive, ignited and you light up so bright, where quite authentically, people don't get you.

From the misunderstood Frankenstein to the ugly duckling, they have too many references to villainous characters and a vast range of names to call you. 

Rebellious is a word so often used, it rolls off their tongue every time you let yourself be unlike the unarmed civilian that doesn't dare give up. 

During these years, you go through your firsts. And your lasts with utmost chance. 

The times when you don't need any filters to look into the eyes of someone you care about, or rather someone who's happy you exist. 

It's when you figure out the pattern of tangled stars in your days and bloom into a vivid constellation after. 

No matter how unbecoming or off-beat you sound, you have a little room for hope. 

Hope that one day, it will be alright to improvise, it will be alright to waver, it will be alright to make the wrong choice which lands circumstantial right in your very distinctive web of lies. 

Downright, you may feel like your notions drown your persona, running deeper than your scars, unraveling dark tales more threatening than your secrets, suffocating you more than the chasmal fingers clasped around your throat, more exquisite than the sophisticated life that people brag about. 

But what's the point of all this? 

Because later, when you decisively register that it's all a sham nowhere but in your own head, it is all too late.

To the much emotive question 'Why?', all I ever got back was a simple answer. 'Because teenage is all about living your life at its high. And not just surviving', came the reply from a very wise woman.

Much to my disdain, I don't know whether she was right when she said it or all wrong?