These past four years have been a whirlwind, saturated with emotions as we prepare to leave the bubble of the Central Mass suburbs. In my freshman year, I picked up one hobby that became a source of tranquility amidst the turbulence of these four years: thrifting.
As I rummage through the racks at the thrift store, I can’t help but wonder about the life of each article of clothing. With certain pieces, I laugh and ask, Who would buy this? But other times, the items leave me melancholy: the graphic tee for grandpa’s 90th birthday party, the fully intact mug that says “broken because I beat cancer” and of course, like Ernest Hemingway’s short story, baby shoes, never worn. Either way, the prior life of whatever I’m about to buy always stands out to me.
It’s fascinating because the clothes can live to see another life. When I check out, I’m renewing their lifespan and saving them from the landfill. There were countless times where I would have given anything for a new life for myself, another chance to start over.
What would I do differently if I were given another chance to live and to repeat high school? In this reality, despite only being one person, I often felt like I was managing multiple lives at once. Katherine, the ace-every-test academic perfectionist. Kat, the anxious volleyball player. Kathy, the friend who tries to be there for everyone.
At the end of the day, though, this is my only life. Katherine’s AP classes are Kat’s commitments, and Kat’s anxiety bleeds into Kathy’s relationships. My thoughts are loud; conversations within my head frequently sound like that friend group where everyone only thinly veils their dislike for each other.
If I had one major regret from these four years, it would be how much I pretended. After all, fake it till you make it…right? Yet, you can’t always make it on your own. In pretending that I was always fine, that I could be perfect if I tried hard enough or that I was never bothered when certain people treated me like ChatGPT, I lost myself. My worth became defined around cultivating the perfect persona; like a machine, I accepted the bland “ty” messages I received as payment in the form of validation, while blissfully* ignoring my flaws (*it wasn’t blissful). I’ve self-sabotaged myself more often than I’d like to admit: crying about my problems, running away from them by pretending they didn’t exist, then crying again about my avoidance.
I’d like to believe I’d do everything perfectly given another chance, but it’s probably a good thing that I won’t be able to redo life. Because amidst my struggles to define myself, there is so much I love about who I am and how much I’ve grown. About how I can pick myself up from each fall – whether it’s the consequences of my people-pleasing tendencies, a disappointing test grade, a missed serve or losing a friend – and look towards the future with hope of how I can apply new lessons.
Perhaps life isn’t about what you run from, but it’s what you run to. Teenage angst enabled me to discover what truly brings me joy: the friends who offer their shoulders to cry on, the songs that describe whatever situation I’m in and the clothes that make me feel like my best self. Through finding what makes me happy, I learned to love and forgive myself. Through teary-eyed epiphanies during concerts, I found myself forgiving those who hurt me, because it’s also their first time living this life.
We’re all living for the first (and last) time. Maybe that sounds scary, but it’s beautiful too. There is so much to be excited about, and our only lives are wonderfully intertwined. We are all experiencing the world together, and there are so many more people you have yet to cross paths with. Don’t expect everything to be perfect, but find beauty in the flaws.
So take every opportunity to create your own joy and embrace every part of yourself. Buy those concert tickets! Wear what makes you feel confident! And above all, don’t be so hard on yourself. Ultimately, you have the power to explore what makes you human. Where one door closes, another opens; you are always running towards the rest of this amazing life.
Class of 2024, you will always be a part of my one and only life. As we move on to the next chapter, keep in mind that we are all doing this for the first time, so treat yourself and others with grace as you cultivate joy and savor every meaningful moment.
