We Are Young

“No adolescent ever wants to be understood, which is why they complain about being misunderstood all the time.” - Stephen Fry

Our parents want what's best for us, but what's best for us isn't always what we want. My generation wants freedom, freedom, and freedom. We can no longer bear the rules imposed on our parents by their parents. We wants to express ourselves, set our own expectations, and beam with delight at our accomplishments. Our accomplishments, not our parents'. We want to achieve the impossible while losing ourselves in daydreams. We want to be overcome by a sense of infinite possibility. We want to feel as though we can do anything we want...anything. With the Internet at our disposal, the possibilities are endless. We are more than ever before surrounded by a plethora of information. The world is one-click away; we want to take advantage of all that it has to offer. We thirst to prove ourselves, to the world, and say that we have enough common sense to make our own decisions. We are young, too young. We know more than we give ourselves credit for. Our knowledge is--and will always be--an ever expanding balloon. We are talented, creative, and inventive, but we'd sooner seek adventures than stay home, playing the role of well-behaved children. We like to lean out of the window and let the wind take us to far away places. We are unique. We are rebels. We do what we expect of us, not what's expected of us. We are singers. We are writers. We are painters. We are scientists. The world of  our parents has lost its luster. We want a small but perfect piece of infinity. We want to build it, shape it, dismantle it, and rebuild it. We want to start at the bottom and build our way up to the top. We don't want to hold our parents' hands anymore. We don't want to hold anyone's hand anymore. We are pillars. Strong and invincible. We are trees that have weathered difficulty, suffered through storms, and endured lightning strikes. Yet our will remains intact. We believe nothing will make us crumble. We are the indestructible generation. We follow our heart's desire, indulge in pleasurable activities, and heinously disregard most rules. It's who we are. It's who we strive to be.

We want to be heard. Our voices are loud. They ring with laughter. The echoes follow. We make noise. We can't be defeated. We think ourselves powerful. We make mistakes, mutter I'm sorry, and move on. Our throats throb and clog, but we emerge stronger than ever before. We are young, yet we seem to believe time is running out. That it's somehow too late. We fear that which we cannot understand, but we can't help being drawn by it. We want more than what we have. We want to be young forever. We want freedom. We want the forbidden. We don't want expectations. We want to be ourselves. We numb the pain, hurt ourselves, and emerge stronger than yesterday. We deem ourselves indestructible. We dip our fingers into a jar of paint, smear them all over a canvas, and leave our fingerprints behind. The world is at our finger tips. We are naïve. We still believe in fairy tales and in happy endings. We cling to the fragments of a dream and refuse to wake up. We walk around with blank stares, concealing the world behind our eyes. We are strong. We swallow our feelings, struggle to keep afloat, and follow the current. We are young, too young. Life is but a winding path stretching ahead of us, which we must set upon and journey alone. But that's okay, because we are young. We think we can do it all, and we can. We are realistic; we wish the impossible. Because we are young. So young. Full of life. High on dreams. Motivated to live. Young.

The Potter Theory

I wasn't a fan of Harry Potter until recently. I didn't understand the Potter mania--my inner adult simply rolled her eyes and thought it riddikulus (get it?). Witches and wizards were overrated. In my world, witchcraft is not to be trifled with. We refuse to acknowledge the existence of witches simply because we tremble at the sight of those who dabble in the dark arts. On the other hand, Harry Potter was inoffensive, even childish. Where's the harm in Dementors? Lord Voldemort? A few magical creatures? A few years passed and I began to cook up my own interpretation of the series (with maturity comes the ability to see what most children can't). The world of Harry Potter, at first glance, seems magical, but it is far more complex than we imagine. Harry Potter is, to the examining eye, the extended metaphor of a boy suffering from delusions writ large.

Harry Potter is an orphan. All he knows is a miserable life with the Dursley, his aunt and uncle, and their nasty son Dudley--a big spoiled bully. Harry lives in a tiny room at the foot of the stairs, with nothing but the company of spiders and a few tin soldiers. A child needs external stimulation--friends, family, love--to develop into a well-balanced young man. Harry was deprived of the most essential commodities of life--food, kindness, clothes. In addition to enduring starvation, Harry was exposed to the toxicity of physical abuse. On several occasions, he mentions that "Dudley's favorite punching bag was Harry". He wore glasses held together by Scotch tape because Dudley often punched him on the nose. His aunt and uncle are doubtless complicit in this abuse. Harry is not only a wizard; he is, too, the ne plus ultra of a domestic abuse victim. The intimations of neglect are there; it is simply a matter of looking past wands and cauldrons.

Harry, in an effort to escape, and cope with, the nightmare that is his life, develops a fantasy world where is famous, rich, and surrounded by friends. According to J.K. Rowling, she has heard it suggested to her that Harry did in fact go mad in the cupboard. Of course, anyone who spends a big chunk of his life imprisoned in a tiny room is prone to lose his mind sooner rather than later. Harry's ability to create an alternate universe is called the Fantasy Coping Theory. Throughout much of the series, Harry, while at Hogwarts, is sent to the hospital no less than six times. Whilst his friends visit the infirmary for having their skin complexion altered to resemble cornflakes, Harry often sustains more common injuries (a broken arm, a cracked skull, etc). Harry, fearing the truth will earn him a punishment, concocts elaborate stories to explain the severity of his wounds. It is not uncommon for victims of domestic abuse to understate the extent of the cruelty to which they are subjected. I fell off my broom while playing a game of Quidditch. Harry seemed to have prolonged the lies as best he could.

The mind is a powerful tool. There is a key, buried deep, that unlocks wonders extending beyond human imagination. There have been instance in which the mind has given rise to superhuman powers (telekinesis, premonition, etc) in times of extreme crisis or stress situations. Harry most likely relied on his mind to maintain his sanity. It makes sense. If we had a choice between relentless beatings or magic realism, we'd of course choose the latter. There is no competition. Harry resorted to fantasy in order to survive. Our species will go to any lengths to perdure, even if it means building a school of witchcraft and wizardry out of thin air.

There were some instances in the series in which characters hinted that it was all in Harry's head. The Sorting Hat, for instance, told Harry that he "could be great, you know, it's all here in your head..." Was Hogwarts a figment of Harry overly wild imagination? Or was it a mental institution? The deepest scars are those we cannot see. There is only so much a young boy like Harry can tolerate, and provided he endured a degree of physical abuse, it would not be at all surprising to learn that he landed in a mental institution.

Let's not forget about Lord Voldemort. In the series Harry and Lord Voldemort share a connection. There is a piece of Voldemort's soul living in Harry. If we took a psychological approach to explicate this connection, it would be argued that Voldemort is Harry's alter ego, the living embodiment of his bestial, hidden self. Voldemort is everything Harry is not: evil, power-hungry, ruthless. Harry was unfortunate enough to lose his parents and resign himself to the neglect of his "family." It is surprising he managed to repress his anger for over a decade. However, less surprising is the fact that Voldemort is a personification of Harry's anger, frustrations, and dashed hopes. Basically, Harry (the superego) is in a dark cellar forever engaged in mortal combat with Voldemort (the id). At the end, the superego emerged victorious, as it once more suppressed the urges of the id.

Whether Hogwarts was a product of Harry's insanity or indeed real, we will never know. The answer depends on how much you're willing to believe.