To the Perfect Nameless Man

I don't know your name. I don't know your age. I don't know your life. Heck, I don't really even know your voice. But I know you.

I know you have an eye for elegance. Simplicity.

You are well read, sitting there with a physical book in your hands, peering down through your rectangular glasses with a slight smile. Smiling because you are so well-rounded. A smile that suggests you are happy to be learning, growing, enriching yourself.

You dress in nice clothes in typical minimalist fashion. It's as if you put them on with careful consideration and  have barely given them a thought since. Your hair is a beautiful light brown that reflects the light like a mirror. Your face is gorgeous, soft, and kind.

I like to think you are a writer. A man of much profound and thorough thought. You pace back and forth sometimes, slightly impatient but not showing it on your face. You carefully examine posters on the walls, absorbing every detail. Your stature, your overall composure, is just quintessential.

You, sir, are a beautiful man. You are a little gem in my routine life. You don't know it, but you have the power to make my day just a little brighter and a little better by just being present.

Thank you for being as earthly perfect as possible.

Nearing the Finish Line

You've probably caught on now that I'm in my last year of high school. And thank goodness.

In a way, I wish I could be one of those people who says that high school was the best four years of their life. Because that means you actually had fun, felt unburdened, and had some good friends and memories.

It was last year, junior year, that I started to feel the unbearable urge to finish up. I was volunteering at the seniors' graduation, and a mother of one of the seniors told me to "enjoy senior year because it will fly by too fast." To which I quickly responded: "Good, because I want it to be over."

Well, she was sort of taken aback. But obviously her idea of a high school experience wasn't exactly what high school has been like for me. Bad classes, bad teachers, 11 standardized tests (most of them right after the other), losing my best friends, tons of family problems, and lots of frustration. I've spent most of my high school experience working extremely hard on homework and tests and just trying to stay focused. I devoted my whole summer before junior year to preparing for the PSAT. I was doing at least a half a practice test per day. When I wasn't doing any sort of school work, I was doing gymnastics, 4 hours a day, 4 days a week.

Burned out is an extreme understatement at this point.

Unlike most of my peers, I can't even afford the luxury of senioritis, because as long as there are critical assignments to be done, you can't allow yourself to slip into relaxation. I guess that's one good thing about my mean coach I've mentioned. He was always drilling the word "DISCIPLINE" into my head. And by discipline, he probably just meant follow his orders obediently. But the mental discipline I've acquired has been very useful this year to stay motivated.

There have also been a few good things that I've encountered over my high school experience. I've met some very good friends, not many, but they have helped keep me level-headed. I've had some very critical life experiences. I got good test scores by working so hard on test prep. I'm a National Merit Commended Scholar. I've reached level 8 in gymnastics. And, I've gotten an excellent academic scholarship that finally makes all the hard work feel a tiny bit worth it.

My problem might be that I've just felt like I've been in the wrong place for too long. That's why I've been holding onto the thought of college so dearly, because it is there that I believe I am meant to feel like I finally fit in. I don't know why I feel like I don't mesh into school right now, but I am hoping and praying that I can make college mine, you know?

Perhaps that is a lofty expectation, but I'm going to give it all I've got. Because that is the one of the few precious thoughts that are keeping me going right now and for the next two months. I envision the day that I graduate, May 25, 2014, to be a glorious one. I'm sure it will be, because I'll finally be able to end this chapter of my life and start working on some better ones.

Growing Up: A Mistake, Sort Of

In 12 days, I'll be a legal adult. Like, legal as in I can buy Sharpies, get married, smoke, and get a tattoo or a few. None of those sound like much consolation though.

For a girl who never wanted to grow up, it's traumatic in a small, quiet way. I still remember sitting on my mom's lap the day of my 7th birthday, having a small meltdown. "I want to be 6 FOREVER," I exclaimed as a few tears slipped out. Man, I still wish I was 6.

Kindergarten was hands down the best academic year of my life. Learning to read. Drawing. Everybody thinking I was cool because of my fake diamond necklace which I managed to convince them was totally real. Show and tell. Lots of people to play with.

Now, I reflect on something a mother of another kid in my class said on my last day of kindergarten, the day before our "graduation." As my friend and I were busy drawing intricate designs on the table smothered with shaving cream, I unconsciously heard this solid piece of philosophy.

"Pretty soon, they'll be graduating for real."

I guess it didn't happen "pretty soon", but it did go by a bit faster than I had hoped. I grew up too quickly. Darn that maturity.

I want to go back to playing with my Build a Bear animals with my childhood best friend. I want to go back to my parents smiling and  holding both of my hands as we skated around the mall's ice rink. I want to go back to the days of endless imagination, laughs, and getting in trouble with my brothers.

I suppose the one advantage of growing up is clarity. I was confused a lot as a child because I couldn't understand complicated situations, partly because I was probably too young to understand, or because nobody wanted to explain things to me. So instead I spent a lot of time just frustrated and upset, trying to come up with my own explanations. Now, as I approach 18, sometimes I feel like I have the clarity of somebody who's 80 years old. Which is good. Sort of. Actually, it only makes me feel older.

Anyway, I guess I just wish my childhood hadn't rushed by so fast. Maybe it's a good thing that I want to relive it. Of course I look forward to the day I start college, get my driver's license, etc. Those are all nice things about growing up. It's possible though that I didn't want to grow up because I was afraid of the future being worse than the present day. I mean, that's a pretty common fear. But with the future comes many opportunities for change, some good and some bad. And I live for opportunities, even if they might not be as good as those I had when I was 6 years old.