Teenagers don’t hear voices. At least, they shouldn’t.
So, when I first started noticing a second opinion inside my head, my first thought was simple—
Me: “Who the hell is this?!”
The Cynic Upstairs: “Oh great. You finally noticed me. Took you long enough.”
Me: “WHAT?! Who said that?!”
The Cynic Upstairs: “Relax. I live here. Been here for a while. Watching. Waiting. Facepalming.”
Me: “I don’t remember signing up for a sarcastic voice in my head!”
The Cynic Upstairs: “Yeah, well, someone has to keep you from making a complete fool of yourself. And so far, I’m not doing a great job.”
At first, I thought maybe I was losing my mind.
Then, I realized—
This voice wasn’t just random thoughts.
This was my inner critic.
My internal disaster prevention unit.
The guy who saw my stupidity before it happened and tried to stop it.
Did I listen to him? Absolutely not. Instead, I spent years arguing with him, ignoring him, and sometimes straight-up telling him to shut up.
This is the story of how The Cynic Upstairs tried (and mostly failed) to stop me from making terrible life choices.
1. The First Encounter – The Cynic Speaks, I Panic
I still remember the first time he made himself known.
I was about to get a spiky haircut because I thought it would make me look like a rockstar.
The Cynic Upstairs: “You are going to regret this.”
Me: “WHO SAID THAT?!”
The Cynic Upstairs: “It’s me. The only sane part of your brain. And I’m telling you—step away from the barber chair.“
Me: “Oh god. I’m possessed.”
The Cynic Upstairs: “Not possessed, just incredibly stupid.”
I tried to ignore him and go ahead with the haircut.
The Cynic Upstairs: “Listen, kid. This is a mistake. You’ll look like a confused hedgehog.”
Me: “Shut up! I know fashion!”
The next day at school—
- Nicknames earned: ‘Pineapple Head,’ ‘Porcupine,’ and ‘Exploding Cactus.’
- Confidence lost: 100%
- Regret level: Off the charts
Me: “Okay… maybe you had a point.”
The Cynic Upstairs: “Oh, look at that! Common sense! A rare event indeed!”
2. The Crush Disasters – The Cynic vs. Teenage Hormones
Every teenager falls in love with the wrong people.
I was no exception.
Me: “I think I’m in love.”
The Cynic Upstairs: “You mean you saw her once and decided she’s your soulmate?”
Me: “She’s perfect! I feel destiny pulling us together!”
The Cynic Upstairs: “Dude, she doesn’t even know you exist. Have you even spoken to her?”
Me: “No, but I will! Soon! Probably!”
Spoiler: I did not.
Instead, I stared at her like a serial killer in training, wrote bad poetry about our ‘future’ together, and hoped somehow she would notice me.
The Cynic Upstairs: “Oh, yes. Women LOVE it when you stare at them like an emotionally unstable statue. Genius plan!”
Outcome? She dated someone else.
Me: “Why do nice guys always finish last?!”
The Cynic Upstairs: “Buddy, you weren’t even in the race.”
3. The Fashion Debates – The Cynic Loses Many Battles
Teenagers believe they understand fashion. They do not.
Some of our most heated arguments were about my style choices.
Me: “I think I should wear sunglasses indoors. It looks cool.”
The Cynic Upstairs: “You will look like a low-budget villain from a Bollywood movie. Take them off.”
Me: “No, I will radiate mystery.”
The Cynic Upstairs: “You will radiate stupidity.”
I wore them. I looked ridiculous.
Another time—
Me: “I’m going to wear flame-printed shirts! They show passion!”
The Cynic Upstairs: “They show you have bad decision-making skills.“
Me: “I don’t care!”
Years later, looking at old photos:
Me: “WHY DID NO ONE STOP ME?!”
The Cynic Upstairs: “Excuse me?! I TRIED! You told me to shut up!”
4. The Turning Point – The First Time I Listened
One day, something changed.
I was about to make another questionable decision—
Me: “I think I should dye my hair blonde.”
Suddenly, The Cynic Upstairs spoke louder than usual.
The Cynic Upstairs: “STOP. JUST STOP. LOOK AT YOUR FACE. WILL BLONDE HAIR REALLY WORK? THINK. JUST THINK.”
For the first time in teenage history, I hesitated.
Me: “…Maybe I should think about this.”
The Cynic Upstairs: “YES. FINALLY. VICTORY!”
And just like that, I had my first recorded case of common sense.
It was a small win, but it was the beginning of something bigger.
5. The End of Teenage Stupidity (Almost)
By the end of my teenage years, The Cynic Upstairs was still fighting for control.
- He was getting louder.
- I was starting to listen.
- But stupidity still had a strong grip on my soul.
I wasn’t fully ready to trust him yet.
But soon, things were about to change.
Because the 20s were coming.
And oh boy, the 20s would be an even bigger disaster.
Final Thoughts
The teenage years were a battle between stupidity and logic.
I, as always, chose stupidity. The Cynic Upstairs? He tried to help, failed, and mostly just facepalmed.
And my teenage self? Still convinced that I was cool. (I wasn’t.)
Up next: The 20s—where The Cynic Upstairs fights for survival against my worst decisions yet.
Stay tuned. (And may The Cynic Upstairs forgive my past self.)