The Idealism of my Youth

The lines between high school reality and high school idealism have already begun to blur. I'm only 4 years out, and already I feel as though time has gotten away from me.

I used to find it so obnoxious when "adults" would tell me to enjoy high school because they'd be the greatest years of my life. And while I still know that's a complete bald-faced lie... I can kind of sympathize with where they were coming from now.

When I think back to high school I tend to only remember the good. Or at least that's what I think of first. I don't think about how horrible it was waking up at 5am for early morning marching band practice. Instead I remember the color of the sky as the sun would come up, the smell of fog in the air, and the sound of the drum majors counting off as we marched across the field. Instead of remembering the itchy, heavy fabric of my band uniform, I remember the sound of the crowd as they cheered us on. Instead of remembering the horrible gossip passed around by so called friends, I remember the long conversations about life and love and careers. Instead of thinking about the horrible french exams (that I barely passed) I think about french club meetings and laser tag outings, where I felt like a member of something special. Instead of thinking about how nervous I was to talk in front of a crowd of people, as the National Honors Society Historian, I think about how proud I was to be a leader before my peers.

Which leads me to believe that maybe the good memories last longer than the bad ones. The memories that count are the ones we want to keep with us. The ones that captured our hearts so profoundly that they engraved themselves into our souls. So no matter how horrible the bad memories are... they won't stick with us forever. At least not as vividly as the good ones.

Ideally, I'll be able to keep this in perspective... to remember that the next time I'm stressing over a project or a job interview, or anything... that even if it's stressful at the time, it isn't the bad parts of it that are going to stick. It's the good parts that will leave the impressions. And isn't that the important thing? Because one day, when we've all reached as far into the future as we can, all that will be left are the memories. And as long as those memories are good ones, isn't that what counts?

Just something to think about.


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