Teenagers point out the absurdities of life, while adults become encompassed in them

Today I destroyed the best painting I ever made, and in my agony, I realized I am a writer.

I'm sitting here, trying to figure out when my mind went blank and my life went full speed ahead. I have SATs, yes I said it, SATs to take this weekend, and I'm moving away over the summer.
I'm stumped over it all. When did I turn 17? When did I loose my free time? I don't have time to read or sew; to write or draw. I take what I can, and I usually end up grasping at an object in the darkness, just out of reach. But I know it's there, so I long for it, day in and day out.
The rare occasions when I find myself with free time, is when the trouble begins. Thoughts I push out of my mind, creep back, taunting me. Worry. Anger. Regret.

Memory is a bit like a pencil with a cheap eraser. You can try to erase your mistake until your arm is sore, but traces of graphite remain. Your mistake is still visible for others to see, or even if they aren't paying attention, you are.

They say life is short. I'm beginning to see why. It seems as if someone has pressed fast forward on my life.
Job. Eat. Homework. Sleep. School. Repeat.

Maybe humans live so long as a punishment. They have to get to a certain level of pain and regret before they can die. It sounds morbid, but I wouldn't be surprised.
I guess there are enough good points to keep us from going off the deep end. Laughter and falling in love.

Laugh till you fall on the floor.
Then you calm down.
And burst out laughing again.
By now you are doubled over and turning an impressive shade of red.

Or

You do something embarrassing but hilarious.
And you have to join in the laughter.
Laughing at the moment.
And the incurable stupidity that links us all.
Makes us human.

It's my job to love you when the world has turned it's back on you.

bits off the top of my head.

"Well, here I am. What do you want?"
"Everything."
"Seriously, cut the crap."
"Hahaha. Alright."

I sat on the subway. My head bumped against the window with each turn. I was in no mood to move it. One of those situations where you are too fed up with life. I guess the science-y people call it inertia. I guess.
The setting wasn't helping. Some hotshot decided to scratch something crude into the wall. The fantastic chairs that were molded to fit no one's butt were causing me to shift constantly. And the window was covered in years of grime.
So I'm pissed, fitting into society's view of a typical outcast. I'm in Fuck Everything mode. Nothing I do or anyone I talk to I like. It came so suddenly to. I was sitting in English class, tempted to slam down my books and barge out the door. Fuming at nothing.

Well, I'm staring at this one guy in particular. It seemed as if life beaten the crap out of him and spat on him afterwards. Yet he had this smile on his face, like he knew the world's greatest joke or something. So I figure, ah what the hell, I may as well talk to the guy. Lord knows I could use a good laugh. So I call him over.

"Hey.. Hey you. The one with the black jacket."
He looks over.
"Come here a sec."
I can sense his caution. I'm not the world's most approachable person. I had fun with piercings, and eyeliner. So I'm dark. Is that a problem?
"I don't mean to be rude, but you seem like you've been.. I dunno.. abused by life. Yet, you've got this look like you've found meaning in the small stuff. So I figured I'd ask what was up."
"Hi, for starters. Yea. I guess I gave up on my appearence. I'm not about to launch into the sorrows of my life, you haven't committed any crime worthy of such a punishment?"
"I hope not. Care for a seat? Where ya headed?"
"Until I decide to get off, or if they kick me off"
"Me too! I just need my head to clear. Things have been odd for me lately."
"Well, I sparked your interest with how I look. I'm doing the bohemian thing at the moment. Living poor and living free."
He chuckled to himself at that point and it was then I investigated him a bit closer.
His shoes showed a great view of his socks, which showed a great view of his toe poking through the hole, and it was all done up with duct tape. Everything was ripped or tattered. He was gaunt, exhausted...
"So how are you free? I didn't think poverty meant freedom. at least that's that way I've seen it all these years."
"Sleep alludes me, hungry invades me. Yes, it would appear I have every oppurtunity to be miserable. I learned wealth causes more harm than good, so I'm trying to live the side of life people generalize but don't experience. Like they say, freedom is just another word for nothing left to loose. When you loose it all you get to focus on the important stuff."
"Philosophical. I like it. I'm Sam by the way."
"I'm Eli. Pleasure to meet cha"

right, I might continue with it but I needed a break point.