High school, the best — and hardest — time of my life

I can still remember the fun, easy, and carefree days of middle school as I am frantically scribbling notes and answers on pieces of binder paper, with several high school textbooks surrounding me.  Don’t even mention the random, irrelevant information running through my head while I’m doing history homework.

High school is no doubt a crazy environment to be in for a bunch of vulnerable teenagers.  What with all the hormones spinning out of control, students must complete homework assignments, listen to lectures, speed walk between classes, cram for tests ten minutes before taking them, and of course, not give in to insanity.

My sister once told me, when I was still in middle school, that high school is where I would find my home, a place of sanctuary and friends.  I had listened to her and waited for that supposedly amazing time when I would have so much fun.  Instead, I got a slap in the face and a door slammed on my nose.

I remember being so excited to “find my home” in high school, almost bouncing off the walls and living my life as a hyper pre-teen, only to be drained of my energy and friends in high school.

I have to admit, being a freshman was pretty fun, when the teachers held my hands through everything, and upperclassmen put all their attention on me, organizing events and activities to make me feel like I belonged.  When sophomore year came around, however, the horrors started.  The helping hands were suddenly cut off, leaving me groping in darkness.  The hormones kicked in and messed with everything, leaving me happy one minute and numbed the next second.

Friends came and left, classes went from easy to challenging in a blink, and passing period was just a blur of running and studying.  The time for friends was gone—the only conversations that lasted were about the next math test.

Going through a year in high school was like a giant roller coaster gone wild.  Teenagers are pretty amazing human beings to be able to adapt and cope with so much on their plates.  This is where I start to questions what my sister had told me. A home? I could almost see the torches and the witches with their cauldrons full of who knows what kinds of potions designed to torture us.

It feels like I am living through every day like a zombie.  Always the same routine:  get up super early in the morning, die a little in the process, go to school, doze off in a few of my classes, go home, do homework, eat, sleep a few hours, and start all over again, dreading the moment I have to drag myself out of bed the next morning.

Although I would like to say that I would never agree with what my sister said, I know that I will probably end up telling some poor, hyper, middle school kid five years from now that high school was one of the best times of my life, either because that’s just what all graduates say to mess with little kids, or because I really truly believe what is coming out of my mouth.