Darcy in the Sea
Observation of a Teenager
As you paddled out to sea, far away from us all, I wondered if there is anyone lonelier than a teenage girl? Stranded somewhere between a child and a woman in a world of contradiction. A baby face with brows hardened and plucked. Saucer-eyes as cold and blue as waves, blinded by the salt water of blatant, blunt frustration because you cannot understand who you are yet, scorching those with a stare who dare think they do, your seething matchstick moods.
You lose yourself in thought and hope nobody finds you there. You think no one is watching. They are. You are the object of their scrutiny and the vessel of their former selves. They like to remind you that they were young once too, you know.
Your voice is stranded between youth and adolescence. Childlike naivety has slipped from your tone, so you choose to speak very little, sounding discordant and garbled, oscillating between mumbles and honking, spiky barbs. Your sharp silences punctuate the deafening adult conversation. Why can’t everyone just be quiet?
Someone wonders out loud why so many teenagers go through the phase of "dressing like jailbait." But when did the shorts you’ve always worn get too short? When did your top shrink just enough to make them wonder what you'd be like to hold as a woman, and not the child you still are? Men desire you, women fear for you, and you wield this new power in your long legs with the innocence of a chainsaw as you rip across the sand.
As your body disappeared under the water where it could no longer be judged, your relief was visible in your hard, shining eyes, regarding the shoreline like a bobbing seal as you ventured almost too far out. The razor cuts on your arms must sting. Maybe you’ll just swim away. Maybe you’ll drown. You imagine your own death not because you really want to die, but because you wish the water could temper the cauldron of your big, beating heart, and it does.
The sea does not flinch at you. It makes no judgement. The waves come and go. Your body and the world might be transforming in twisted, violent ways but the water rocks the cradle of your good bones. You’re going to be just fine, Darcy. Whether it’s a tempest or a teardrop, you have magnificent, watery strength, and a beauty waiting to be discovered that’s all your own.
Love it xxx giving her her photo book today.