The end.

It sounds so scary now that I’m actually saying it. My own self-effacement will deter any accomplishment rehashments or extemporaneous chutzpah from a random high-school memory. I don’t particularly like complaining about what I can’t control, but boy do I worry.

Did I do enough?

Did I feel enough?

Did I live out the quintessential American teenage dream?

Or did I worry so much about grades that I didn’t get to experience high school the way I should have? Did I perpetrate the dangerous model minority myth the way every Time Magazine warned me about?

Did I make the truly bombastic debut and exit that I always imagined or was it some foolish dream left in the background of a much more furtive reality?

When I self reflect on what I’ve done these past 4 years, the majority doesn’t consist of laughing till my stomach hurts or hoping the platonic turns into the romantic. No chicanery-esque hijinks to get into wacky situations.

No.

What I see is a cocksure little girl who has her smarts and maybe half a personality to hold onto. Maybe it’s because high school didn’t leave a lot of room to self-reflect, I mean, how was I supposed to ascertain what kind of person I am with 5 hours of homework a night? Just a girl and her inhibitions holding her back

Should I sound bitter?

Be bitter?

I don’t think this is some sort of prevalent opinion. Bitterness could only lead to regret and isolation. But the entire experience felt cursory. When everyone freshmen year said it would fly past, I never took those kinds of comments seriously. I wish I did.

Don’t get me wrong. The microcosms of high school kept me sane, stage left of props, flute section of marching band, back table in the library. But I can’t help but feel like I wasted it, like I could have litigated better terms of high school in exchange for more memories. Maybe recriminate a random accusation to get freshman me a freer track.

I probably sound insane.

Do other people feel this way? I don’t think people want to think this hard about high school knowing they’re about to go to college. Ah college, a whole new level of nirvana. 9 am lectures and 10 times more freedom.

Well, at the very least, I know better. Better than to stay up until 2 am doing 10 point assignments. Better than to study the night before an AP exam on 4 hours of sleep. Better than to waste my youth pouring over essays and exams and interviews and projects and who the heck knows what. The Machiavellian aspects of schooling.

So this is the end.

End of high school.

End of this essay.

End of this senten…