Freshman Year
I’m about half way through my first year of high school and I’m still not used to it. Things are so much different here than at any other school I’ve been to. There are many more teachers to meet, more classes to take, more people. Now that I’m half way through the novelty has sort of worn off. I’m not that fresh faced child anymore. I wouldn’t consider myself a “veteran” of high school or anything, but I don’t see it as this huge experience that I used to see it as. Second semester and things are different, my grandpa passed away not too long ago and I’ve lost all motivation. I don’t feel like I can do this anymore. I’m falling behind in English and I don’t know how I can go on without feeling like every day at school is draining my energy. It’s almost the end of freshmen year and I’m on pace again. I’ve got my groove back, I feel like myself again, like I can actually do this. I feel like I’m not this hopeless girl anymore. I’m going to graduate and I’m going to get into a good college like I’ve always wanted to. Junior year I’ve never felt more in tune with myself as a person. Sophomore year caused a lot of conflict in my life; I lost sight of myself once again. With the help of some of the most amazing people I’ve ever met I do not feel like a complete failure. I’ve made some of the best memories so far this year. I’ve become more involved than I’ve ever been. I started by joining clubs, like ASL, which has taught me how to communicate better with people. Then, my agriculture teacher Ms. Gregory got me into some Veterinary Science competitions, and I got even closer to some people that I now consider my family. I’ve broken out of my shell and pushed myself to do things that I’ve never done before. I’ve spoken in front of people despite my social anxiety, many times. I’ve gone to competitions despite being self-conscious of my ability to perform well under pressure. I’ve gone out and done things that my younger self would have applauded me for. I felt like I was getting back to that fun loving, outgoing child I once was. Senior year It’s the beginning of my last year of high school and I can’t be more confused about how I feel about it. I’m both exhilarated and terrified. I both want to be done with high school and want it to continue on. There’s an air of tension around this year. I’m not sure what it is exactly but I’m nervous for my future. I’m nervous to think about what will happen after this year is over. I don’t know what will happen but I’m sure I can get through it. I’m happy to say that I’ve been staying on pace with all of my classes, and on the off chance that I fall behind I pick myself back up and catch up with the rest of the class. I refuse to put myself in a position where I don’t know if I will graduate or not. I don’t want to be scared; I don’t want the fear of not graduating to be a fear that I have to experience. It’s almost the end of the first semester and I can happily say that I’m ready for my future. I’m going to graduate if I have to lose an arm and a leg. I’m ready for whatever the world has to throw at me, I’m ready to graduate. Senior year It’s almost over. My life as an adolescent is almost over. Not too far away is graduation, then my birthday, then my future as an ‘adult,’ though not necessarily an adult in every way. I’m once again both terrified and excited for what’s to come. I don’t know what is coming exactly, but I do believe that I can face it. I do believe that I can do this without breaking. It’s now February and I couldn’t be happier, I’ve become attached to the idea of graduation. I’m excited; I’m no longer terrified of my future. I’ve got a college picked out, and I’ve got a plan. I can do this without completely failing myself, without failing my family. It’s March, and the graduation date comes closer and closer. I have my exit interview tomorrow and I don’t know how to feel about that. My social anxiety is ready to flare up, and I feel sick to my stomach just thinking about tomorrow. I don’t know what to do. I’ve practiced and practiced, in front of a mirror, my family. I have a good feeling that hiding behind my nerves. I am prepared, and I will do well, but that won’t stop the butterflies that have made a home in my stomach. I’ll pass, and then it’ll all be over in a couple of months.
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