I wish I was young again, carefree and uncaged from my harsh realities. I miss being 8, when my problem was not my failing grades but my mother's threat of cutting off our cable connection just because my so-called friend of mine told her how addicted I was to the channel. This friend, asked me who the Artist of the Month was at that time leading to my enumeration of all the predecessors and just about everyone. That was how my mom knew that MTV was not just a mere hobby but a life for me. She always brought up my addiction every time we fought. She accused it as the reason why I wasn't doing good in school, why I seemed distracted all the time, and why I always forgot things.My parents never understood how I felt. Nobody could. MTV was my comfort zone. The vj's, videos, everything a
s long as it had its logo put on it were my friends. Everything. All day I dreamed of being a vj, introducing videos, be wacky, travel places, basically do cool stuffs. Being a vj was the coolest job on earth. I imagined myself being in those videos. I wanted to be look up to. I somehow even memorized all the show's timeslots and deciphered that MTV's programming ran a cycle of 8 hours a day.MTV felt home. I had my own world with it. The world outside could have been crumbling without me feeling a thing as long as I was glued on MTV. I was an addict and I was really proud. It made me fell special, a little weird but special. It wasn't everyday grown-ups met music video savvy kids. It gave me an inflated sense of hipness those other kids don't really care about. For all I care I didn't need appreciation from kids of my age. All I need was my MTV fix. I wish I could be that kid again, the kid that didn't have to worry about failing grades, that kid that didn't really have to worry about anything other than his dose of MTV.
