I’m sitting in the back seat of this car. The air from outside is flowing and the radio is loud. I could stick my head out of the tinted windows and be greeted by the rushing air and the traffic lights, becoming engulfed in the sensation of freedom. I could be infinite like Charlie and his friends (where are my Perks of Being a Wallflower fans at??), I truly could be. But I sit there in the back of that car and it seems more cramped than it should be. I sit there and I realize that I don’t like R&B and trap music, the only two genres that these speakers seem to be able to play. There’s people around me, hot and sweaty bodies talking to each other about kids at school, or how they bombed a test earlier that day. But it doesn’t matter because they’re infinite and I could be too. But I’m sitting there, scratching at the fake leather seats, my mind longing for the comfort of my bed that awaits me at home.
In a way, this is what high school feels like. A culmination of awkward events and social interactions, sometimes leading you into the back seat of this car. But y’know it wasn’t always hot and stuffy in there, and the seatbelt wasn’t always so tight around your neck. As a freshman, I was ecstatic to hop into the back seat, anxious to be a part of the conversations around me. I would participate. I would say my jokes, as bad as they were, and laugh along to the others. But at some point the jokes get old and you have to keep pretending they’re funny. And I can’t blame anyone for doing that. Dragging normalcy along, as annoying as it can become, is easier than reaching out for something new.
In the same way, it’s easy to fall into a role at school or any social setting for that matter. To act in a way that others expect you to act is a predicament that I don’t see explored enough. I was always told that high school was the time in which you find yourself. Maybe it is for some, but I just don’t think that’s a generality I can stand behind. Throughout these four years, I have tried so many things, met so many different kinds of people, and most importantly, made an innumerable amount of mistakes. Yet I wonder if I’m any more “myself,” than I was four years ago. Perhaps I’m even further from it. I know who I was, and I know who I don’t want to be, but I’m not sure I know myself.
I think this process of “becoming” has been misconstrued. Why should it be limited to a specific time period of a person’s life? If you don’t feel a sense of completion in your heart by the time you finish high school or even college, does that mean it’s over for you? I reject this idea.
I’m reminded of a Switchfoot lyric (check them out; they’re fire), “this is your life, are you who you want to be?” As simple as it is, I think it speaks volumes. We only have one life, one high school experience. Mine is pretty close to being over. If you’re not content with your everyday life, if you’re tired of riding in the back seat listening to music that you despise, what’s stopping you from changing it? If you don’t like who you’ve become, if you’ve made some mistakes that you can’t seem to shake, realize that it’s okay. You will never be completely perfect and nobody should blame you for that (if they do, realize they’re not perfect themselves). “Today is all you’ll ever have,” and it would be a shame if you didn’t spend the time you did have in pursuit of who you want to be.
I think this piece is less for the reader and more for me, yet I know that there has to be someone else who will understand or at least comprehend what I’m saying. If not now, then in the future. If you ever find yourself sitting in that car wanting to go home, the annoying sensation of fake peeling leather scratching the underside of your knee, just know I was there once and I no longer am.
