An impressionable kid looking to be impressed: An oversimplified, though valid, summation of my high school experience. Since I have moved on to college, my nostalgia has been coated in a bitterness I have since been defensive about. High School was fine, nothing more nothing less.
*Disengaging guards now*
If we are going to dwell on memories whose reservations are not dated until far later, (Who knows, maybe my thirties will provide me with something of an objective perspective) we might as well try to snag a table while we are here. Whether the view will be adequate, I will let you be the judge.
So I’m walking through some throw-away ‘hallway trip to class’ and I can feel a knot in my stomach. It must be my senior year, the height of my angst and need to be validated, and I recall having a deranged fondness for this knot. I felt time was slipping through my fingers and in some kamikaze-attempt to hold onto something, I remember tying that knot even tighter hoping it would not undo.
This type of behavior led to a two-year post-high-school long-distance relationship that ended up folding just in time for my transfer to another school. It’s funny how things work out that way–I guess I regret nothing.
This is unfinished, I really don’t know where to go from here. But that’s the point right?