DIARY OF AN UPCOMING SENIOR

I was sitting on the gray gym floors with majority of the girls in my grade who were holding up the “6th grade” section sign. We were at one of the first pep-rallies of the year, which was new & exciting to my 12 year old self. We performed some novice leveled dance routine where I remember I was the only one to throw a back-handspring & thinking it was cool that the big kids were cheering for me. I’m sure I participated in one of the classic pep-rally games or something. But what I remember most is staring across the gym at the section of the bleachers that were filled with bigger, prettier, cool-calm-&-collected seniors. It wasn’t intimidation I felt, more like fascination. I don’t even know what it was that I was fascinated with to be honest, I just was. Maybe how laidback, happy, & content they seemed. Or maybe it was because I knew that one day I would be sitting over there and I could not wait.

A big bad senior, woah. My 12 year old self probably could not fathom the thought of actually being one. And to be quite frank, my 17 year old self can’t really either. We all think and say, & tweet and retweet things like “I wish I was a senior” or “so excited that I only have one more year left”. But I don’t think we truly mean or think those things through- it’s more the excitement of starting our futures that’s speaking.

“You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you’ll escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present.” -John Green

I find myself being the reality of that quote too often, lately. Not in a bad way. Im not saying my life sucks or anything, it is quite the very most opposite. But I feel like I’ve been using my future to escape the responsibilities I have to take care of in order to get where I want my future to be. It’s like playing house with the cute boy in your kindergarten class & having your friend be your child & you cook & you put the baby to bed & you have a steady income job & a perfect little life with your perfect little family. Except I’m not 6 & only have the aspirations of being a mommy. I’m a 17 year old who needs to be “making moves” instead of playing house.

Every time I go to babysit, I bring my laptop & my laptop charger, & prepare to sit down & write, one of many, first rough drafts of a college essay. Crap. Now that I am thinking about all the sh!@$ I need to get done, if any of my teachers are reading this and would like to promote the intruiging, dedicated, & passionate side of me with a recommendation letter I would be ever so thankful. 🙂 🙂 🙂 Yes, you are thinking correctly I did forget to ask a couple of my teachers if they would write me a rec. Irresponsible ex. #1. So while I have my laptop plugged in & ready to go, the only thing I find myself doing is watching YouTube videos, reading blogs, & writing posts of my own. Well, the really only progress I’ve made to my essay is the title: COLLEGE ESSAY: THE PATHETIC ATTEMPT TO GET SH!@& DONE (A CHRONICLE OF MANY DISTRACTIONS BY MY MANY PASSIONS). Irresponsible ex. #2.

So as I sit here, at the pool by my lonesome & writing this post, I’m realizing that my naive thoughts of the calm-cool-&-collected seniors I once was fascinated by, must’ve been perceived entirely all wrong. Because soon I will be sitting over on that side of the bleachers, staring back at some little 6th grader whose staring at me, & mouthing “Do not be fooled”, because even though I am so close to being out of there & on my way to my future, I am so not in the slightest bit prepared.

Yours truly,

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