Dear Abby: Teen gets a distant feeling from closest family members

The pressure of grades and the looming shadow of college applications felt like a constant weight. His parents meant well—they talked about "limitless futures"—but to Leo, the future just looked like a giant, blank whiteboard he had no markers for. He often felt a strange distance from his own family, a feeling that they were looking at a version of him that didn't actually exist.

One Tuesday, while avoiding his biology homework, he found himself at the local mall—a place that felt like a relic from another era. He sat by the fountain, watching a group of younger kids try to look older, their laughter echoing off the half-empty storefronts. He remembered being that age, when the biggest worry was whether a girl liked his new jeans. Now, the worries were more complex: body image, social media's relentless noise, and the crushing anxiety of "making it".

Leo stared at the screen until the blue light felt like it was etching itself into his retinas. At sixteen, "teen life" wasn't the high-octane drama of the shows he watched; it was a series of quiet, heavy expectations. He was supposed to be the "gifted" one, the one who navigated high school with the ease of a veteran traveler, but most days, he just felt like he was failing at being a person.