i-D asked 7 teens in London—”What’s the hardest part about growing up?”. The result is a collection of surveys, asking the soon-to-be adults about the most rebellious things they’ve ever done, first kisses, and bravery, accompanied by black-and-white portraits. The photos might actually more interesting than the surveys, because they’re taken by an adult (named Boo George). Through the adult eye, you see why it’s important to take care of kids, and how their skin looks now, how present they are, yet how unaware. I felt left out. As I’ve been getting older, and more recently feeling an intense resistance to what comes with growing up, I felt a survey could be fun. I usually like my own answers (I always did on Myspace surveys). Ask me questions, please, someone. Help me learn how to talk about it, because I can’t do it by myself.
Name: Abeline Cohen, age 24
Where do you live? I’m in between homes, moving into an apartment in Silverlake
Where do you hang out? In bed, if I can. In the morning, I’m usually buying iced green tea from an expensive coffee shop, and at the weekends I’m at Los Globos.
What’s the best thing about where you live? I never have to be alone. But that’s also the worst thing
What do you want to be? A big time awesome singer
When was your first kiss? 7th grade, Halloween
What’s the hardest part of growing up? Learning to be scared of stuff
What’s the bravest thing you’ve ever done? Told people my deep dark secrets
What’s the most rebellious thing you’ve ever done? Move away from home
Finish this sentence: Age is…something I don’t want to believe makes a difference, but might actually make a difference
I just wanted to answer this survey, but I don’t know what I got out of it. It’s not the added types of financial responsibility that I’m afraid of, it’s not the wrinkles (yet, I don’t think)—I’m scared of getting used to things that adults are so used to. I’m scared of knowing what it’s like to be alive when my sisters are dead. And I don’t want to have a baby! The other night, I went out with a friend and he got too drunk, took off all of his clothes on a sidewalk, smoked synthetic weed with a random street guy, screamed for hours. I asked him if he was okay the next morning, and he said he’d been crying for 12 hours since then. He’d gotten on the train at 5 A.M and laid down on the subway car floor, crying, unable to move. What’s wrong with all of us? Are we going to be okay? I wonder then, if we’re not going to be, what will make us feel better in the meantime. That’s why I tried the survey.
Photo and survey credit to i-D mag.
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