Typically, I love blogging because it makes me think. It gives me a little time
for myself and my own thoughts, and provides me with the chance to piece together the puzzles my brain has constructed for itself.
Today, though, I hate blogging, because it makes me think.
I don’t know what to think. Approaching graduation, many of my peers have begun to dive into nostalgia; reflecting upon their high school career and sharing stories with each other. So far, I don’t feel any of that nostalgia. In fact, despite the happy memories I’ve made here, I’m ready to get out and start over.
Looking back at the blogs I’ve written this year, you can probably see that mindset. Unlike my peers, I didn’t write about fun senior-year traditions or things I was excited about. Rather, I wrote about pieces of me and the people and things that have shaped me, and I’m glad I did. Through reflecting upon myself and the parts of me, I’ve given myself time to think about who I want to be. It’s for this reason that I’ve loved blogging so very much.
I can’t say I have a favorite blog. Each and every one of them means something different to me, because they reflect a different part of myself. I’m not just considering the topic, either—because I think the context in which these blogs are written means something too. For example, I’ll never forget sitting in an empty hotel bathtub, frantically analyzing a poem; or scouring my camera roll for blog ideas, just to find hundreds of photos of me crying; or having to take pictures of the contents of my pencil case in a Nichols Library huddle room while someone tried to kick me out. In a way, I’m grateful for the opportunities that blogging has given me to make these memories.
Truthfully, though, the memories I made this year were rather…limited? It always felt like I was rushing to get things done and to achieve something I couldn’t, and as a result, I didn’t do anything super spontaneous or out-of-the-ordinary. I don’t think I liked this year. I don’t think that I was truly myself nor was I surrounded by people that I really flourished around. It’s not that I hated my peers or didn’t have friends—it’s that something has just been missing since everyone graduated last year, and I’ve been trying to fill it with things that probably weren’t the best for me. But at least I’ve learned to recognize this.
Through trying to fill that void, I’ve learned that there’s a world beyond NNHS that we often forget about. I think one of the most important lessons I’ve learned in my four years is that we live in a little Naperville bubble, but that there’s so much more beyond these walls. Each of our teachers have lived crazy lives that stretch magnitudes that we might not even be able to comprehend; when we complain about how early 4th period lunch is, we should really be thinking about how lucky we are that we don’t have 3rd or 7th period lunch like District 204 does; and it’s not necessarily always a good thing to be as competitive as we are, and sometimes we just need to take a step back and be happy.
To future NNHS seniors, my biggest piece of advice: don’t let anybody tell you who they think you should be. Trust your gut. More so than ever, people are going to insert themselves into your life. If you know you can handle hard classes, go for it. Don’t do anything just for college applications, because when the time comes, those things won’t really matter that much. Remember that you are worth more than whatever you’re putting on paper. When the time comes, everybody is going to think that they know what school and what environment is best for you, but only you will truly know. Believe me, it’s never a bad idea to listen to your own opinions.
You know, after some more thinking, maybe I am being a little nostalgic.