We tried as best we could
to wreak havoc
in a little bubble of
Suburbia.

Whooping, whistling, wondering,
exploring in endless circles,
we were told to stay within
the shelter of our neighborhood
with treadmill streets
and houses cut from the earth
by a single, two-story cookie cutter.

Jaywalking, getting into fights and pretending to like cigarettes.
Rag-tag bunch of upper middle class white kids
fueled by teenage discontent and privilege,
we smoked weed, and spray-painted bad graffiti,
we stole beer from the grocery store
and got drunk in garages
while our parents slept.

With skateboards instead of crucifixes,
we carried a symbol of youthful rebellion
and strayed from the expectations of our little bubble.
We sought defiance,
scoffed at ideas like faith, and responsibility,
and left Jesus hanging on the cross
for someone else to find.

We were ignorant of our own ignorance.
And that was okay
within the confines of our bubble.

We sheltered suburban youth.

We complained of boredom
because we never had to struggle,
never went hungry,
always got what we wanted for Christmas.
We lived a pleasantly false reality.
We had no idea what life was like outside,
never knew what it would be like
to face real problems.

And in the twilight of our youth,
we dreamed of venturing out on our own.
We dreamed of excitement,
while counting down the days
until we would be free.

But we were naïve.

We didn’t understand the freedom we had.
Couldn’t believe that life would be harder
outside our little bubble of boredom.

We didn’t realize that we would be weaned off
the steady flow of money from our parents.
Privilege was only a vague concept
somewhere in the background of our awareness,
taken for granted, the way we had always lived,
but never truly understood.

For our whole lives we were protected.
Hidden away from real dangers
and real life.

We grew to hate our secluded bubble
of pristine parks,
boutique clothing stores,
and parking lots
full of European luxury cars.

We were raised in a delusion
of wealth and safety.

We mistook privilege for banality
because we were raised in a world
without poverty and crime,
a world where everyone’s life seems perfect.

I want to go back,
to feel the bliss of ignorance again,
and take privilege for granted.
It’s easier that way.