Adolescence: where everything ends and begings...

Adolescence: The Earthquake That No One Forgets

Adolescence is not a season—it’s a natural phenomena that shatters all the illusions of childhood and forces you to rebuild from ground zero. You enter this tumultuous period as a child with soft, untested edges, only to emerge—if fortune and grit allow—as something approaching an adult—left bruised and battered at the least.

There’s no graceful walk through adolescence; you crawl and you stumble, only to find that the approval and validation you desperately cling to come from people who will vanish from your life before you even know your own strength. It’s such a shame, but that’s the pyramid of life—and adolescence is one of the most fascinating levels.

Nobody really prepares you for what this natural phenomena entails. They call it “just a phase,” as though the emotional earthquakes could be summed up in a few dismissive words. But make no mistake: adolescence is the phase that teaches you how to die, rise and still function. It is the bridge between being cradled in the arms of childhood and learning—sometimes too painful—to hold yourself up, to decide who you are without the constant commentary of others.

You’re caught in this uncomfortable in-between. On one side lie the relics of youth—whatever that means for you. On the other hand, the stormy gusts of adult urges, responsibilities, and desires that surge in your gut before your mind is ready. Your voice begins its slow, transformative descent into depth, while your comprehension lags behind like an echo struggling to keep up.

You feel emotions in magnitudes previously unknown: overwhelming lust, searing loneliness, crackling rage, insatiable hunger, dizzying euphoria, and a shame so acute it nearly blinds you. Yet, no one hands you a map—you are given destinations to be reached by certain rules, but no compass to guide you. Everyone around you—parents, teachers, peers—seems to be guessing their way through the chaos of what used to be simple.

Your body is the first battleground. You awaken to a new skin like a Halloween costume—but one you never chose (a skin that grows tighter, itches mercilessly, and attracts stares that make you painfully aware that appearance might unjustly outweigh inner worth). The mirror, once a benign reflection of a familiar self, transforms into a harsh critic.

Everything that you do feels like a sin and a reminder of the gap between who you are and who you’re supposed to be. You compare yourself to the idealised and manufactured images everywhere, judging yourself as if you should already be camera-ready, flawless in an era of nothing but fakeness.

Then comes love—or what you mistake for love. That first crushing passion is both a ray of hope and a zoo cage. You fall with an intensity that defies gravity; you give your heart without measure, only to have it shatter, or sometimes you run, scared of the overwhelming tide of emotion—or you are the one who is pulling the strings. No one ever taught you how to find emotional equilibrium—the lessons come only in the form of harsh, unyielding consequences.

Friendships during this phase are nothing if not intense—possessive, and all-consuming. One moment, you’re inseparable from someone who feels like family; the next, that bond disintegrates as if it never happened in the first place. Adolescence doesn’t honour gentle transitions. It rips apart your expectations and replaces them with lessons, forcing you to learn early what it means to outgrow people or, worse, to be left behind—that’s why it’s important to stay conscious.

However, amidst all this chaos, you are in the process of becoming. The rebellion you exhibit is one of a kind—screaming into the void, uttering half-truths and bold lies, slamming doors and blasting music—yet everybody goes through this “similar” cycle. Every scar you gather in these formative years becomes a reminder of the empathy, the resilience, and personal boundaries you construct—the thing is, you are also the one who does the evaluation. You may not understand it now, but one day your future self will turn back and have a chat with you.

So, to every teenager trapped in a body forced to age too quickly: I see you. Your struggle matters. Even in your pain and confusion, your raw, screaming self is real—and it’s beautifully essential in shaping the person you are destined to become. And to those who have already passed the adolescent phase, but are still struggling—look back, but with an open mind and accept what happened for what it was, not how it affected you (there is a great person that hides inside… I’m sure).

Loud and healing,
Ivaniel “The Still Becoming” Georgiev

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