V is for Vexed

So totally want to, like, stamp my foot, and, like, slam the door at the same time as want to, like, coolly raise my eyebrow, toss my head, you know, and, like, glide out or something? Confused, man, so totally, like, confused.

Vexed is, I think, a teenage emotion. Not the childlike agitation or the mature annoyance, but a teenage mix of both. A state combining baffle and anger. It lies in that misty region between confusion and irritation.

The apt feeling as one shops for a personality, as one tries them on to see which fits. Sometimes one by one, and sometimes, a mix. A flowing evening gown with cowboy boots and a holster. Verily vexing indeed.

This is the young, exact feeling for the capricious time between the blithe child and the wary adult. This word answers the apocalyptic call of the teenage angst.