24 May 2007
a new outlook.
On the first day of the last week of school, Mr. Castagna wrote a note on one of the pillars in senior hall telling the seniors to write on the tiles and the windows of the hallway, leaving behind memories of LHS.
Someone wrote this:
It was just by luck that we noticed it; we happened to be in the hallway after the IB Psych test when there was no one else around. I didn't think much of it at first, but then it struck me: maybe the best is yet to be. Maybe all these things in my past, all these things that have been bringing me down, maybe they weren't the best things that are ever going to happen to me. Maybe I've got something really amazing to look forward to.
I guess this contemplative frenzy started at the end of the school year went we toured the new building. It's beautiful, state-of-the-art, fabulous. I'm excited to be nerdy and call the library TL2, I'm psyched for the latte bar, and I'm positively ecstatic to finally be a senior. Next year has all the makings of amazingness: the video announcements (with yours truly as one of the anchors!) are going to be untouchable in their awesomeness, I'm finally going to be editor-in-cheif, some of the people who have made my life miserable for the last few months are FINALLY going to be gone, and I have some of the best friends I could ever hope for.
But as I move on to this new chapter of my life, I can't help but feel a little wistful about those ugly orange hallways. I have three years of memories in that building, and countless other people make up another six decades of ups and downs. LHS has housed some of the greatest and some of the most notorious. People fell in love, they had their hearts broken, they met people they would know for the rest of their lives, they learned about life and love and friendship and all the things that really matter.
That building doesn't exist anymore; it's just a pile of rubble. Those trees in senior courtyard that we spent so many countless hours studying (and, more importantly, not studying) under are gone, senior hall is gone, locker 2680 is gone, the debate room is gone, Ms. Cheese's room is gone, it's all been reduced to a bunch of dirt and bricks.
I know it sounds cliche, but the memories made in that building live on. They still exist. They still helped to make us who we are today. I'm know I'm going to feel a little sad next year when we don't have any of those things, but I guess that's been the paradigm of this year for me: change.
My best friend moved to California. I said goodbye to a beloved pet. I drifted away from someone I'd been friends with for two years. I coped with a disease most people don't understand. I sat in a shrink's office for the first time. I made amends with someone I'd hated from day one. I listened to new music. I made new friends. I lost someone I loved more deeply than I ever thought possible.
Some of it has been awful; I never knew anything could hurt as much as heartbreak. Then again, some of it has been amazing; I ended up with the best friend I could ever ask for.
In the last two days, I've felt more vindicated, more ready to be myself than ever before. I reconciled with a friend I've been missing. It's not going to be perfect right away, and I know it's going to be awhile before we're as close as we used to be, but it's a step in the right direction and I couldn't be more pleased about it.
I also realized that the one person who's been doing his best to ruin my life doesn't really matter at all. Rather than letting these awful things he says make me feel terrible about myself, I should just be feeling sorry for him; he's lonely, he's hurt, he feels rejected and angry. I still can't look in the mirror without hearing his voice telling me how repulsive I am. But the longer I go without him in my life, the better I feel, the less I feel the need to reconcile. Maybe someday he'll grow up, but until then, I'm perfectly happy to have a life without him in it.
In the last two days, I've made friends and lost friends and rediscovered friends, and I didn't know it could all happen so quickly. It's been painful and it's felt great. It's made me miserable and it's made me happier than I've been in weeks. It's a mixed bag.
I guess that's life. There are ups and downs. There are people to get you through it, and when they're not around, we have to learn to love ourselves. We have to learn that it doesn't really matter all that much what anyone else thinks; what really matters is who we are, who we want to be. Anyone who tells you otherwise--anyone who tries to bring you down or hold you back--doesn't deserve to be your friend anyway.
So here I am, raw and unpolished, having forgotten all the things that make me myself. I'm on my own; I'm ready to rebuild. I think this summer--even with all those rough spots I see on the horizon--is going to be good for me, after all.
Someone wrote this:
It was just by luck that we noticed it; we happened to be in the hallway after the IB Psych test when there was no one else around. I didn't think much of it at first, but then it struck me: maybe the best is yet to be. Maybe all these things in my past, all these things that have been bringing me down, maybe they weren't the best things that are ever going to happen to me. Maybe I've got something really amazing to look forward to.
I guess this contemplative frenzy started at the end of the school year went we toured the new building. It's beautiful, state-of-the-art, fabulous. I'm excited to be nerdy and call the library TL2, I'm psyched for the latte bar, and I'm positively ecstatic to finally be a senior. Next year has all the makings of amazingness: the video announcements (with yours truly as one of the anchors!) are going to be untouchable in their awesomeness, I'm finally going to be editor-in-cheif, some of the people who have made my life miserable for the last few months are FINALLY going to be gone, and I have some of the best friends I could ever hope for.
But as I move on to this new chapter of my life, I can't help but feel a little wistful about those ugly orange hallways. I have three years of memories in that building, and countless other people make up another six decades of ups and downs. LHS has housed some of the greatest and some of the most notorious. People fell in love, they had their hearts broken, they met people they would know for the rest of their lives, they learned about life and love and friendship and all the things that really matter.
That building doesn't exist anymore; it's just a pile of rubble. Those trees in senior courtyard that we spent so many countless hours studying (and, more importantly, not studying) under are gone, senior hall is gone, locker 2680 is gone, the debate room is gone, Ms. Cheese's room is gone, it's all been reduced to a bunch of dirt and bricks.
I know it sounds cliche, but the memories made in that building live on. They still exist. They still helped to make us who we are today. I'm know I'm going to feel a little sad next year when we don't have any of those things, but I guess that's been the paradigm of this year for me: change.
My best friend moved to California. I said goodbye to a beloved pet. I drifted away from someone I'd been friends with for two years. I coped with a disease most people don't understand. I sat in a shrink's office for the first time. I made amends with someone I'd hated from day one. I listened to new music. I made new friends. I lost someone I loved more deeply than I ever thought possible.
Some of it has been awful; I never knew anything could hurt as much as heartbreak. Then again, some of it has been amazing; I ended up with the best friend I could ever ask for.
In the last two days, I've felt more vindicated, more ready to be myself than ever before. I reconciled with a friend I've been missing. It's not going to be perfect right away, and I know it's going to be awhile before we're as close as we used to be, but it's a step in the right direction and I couldn't be more pleased about it.
I also realized that the one person who's been doing his best to ruin my life doesn't really matter at all. Rather than letting these awful things he says make me feel terrible about myself, I should just be feeling sorry for him; he's lonely, he's hurt, he feels rejected and angry. I still can't look in the mirror without hearing his voice telling me how repulsive I am. But the longer I go without him in my life, the better I feel, the less I feel the need to reconcile. Maybe someday he'll grow up, but until then, I'm perfectly happy to have a life without him in it.
In the last two days, I've made friends and lost friends and rediscovered friends, and I didn't know it could all happen so quickly. It's been painful and it's felt great. It's made me miserable and it's made me happier than I've been in weeks. It's a mixed bag.
I guess that's life. There are ups and downs. There are people to get you through it, and when they're not around, we have to learn to love ourselves. We have to learn that it doesn't really matter all that much what anyone else thinks; what really matters is who we are, who we want to be. Anyone who tells you otherwise--anyone who tries to bring you down or hold you back--doesn't deserve to be your friend anyway.
So here I am, raw and unpolished, having forgotten all the things that make me myself. I'm on my own; I'm ready to rebuild. I think this summer--even with all those rough spots I see on the horizon--is going to be good for me, after all.
5/24/2007
