Sick of Senioritis

It is easy for us to see the end of high school as soon as it begins. I cannot remember with clarity the beginning of high school. Maybe it’s because my freshman year happened online, or that it’s been all too insignificant for me to put my finger on what it is and what it’s meant, but I can feel the tingle in my stomach, the ache in my neck, and the dancing of my fingers as I feel myself approaching an end to this place. The optimism I once lacked after four years of trudging through high school every day, I can now feel cut through the doubts and misshapen hopes held in the hallways of this building. The chill air and gray classrooms of South Eugene High School now feel so far away, so little a part of my life. But I am not yet done. I’m still trudging through this school every day, even if it feels as if all of that is over. A conviction of being so young is the urge to grow up and move on, and in one’s senior year this takes the form of a phantom disease referred to as  “senioritis.”

Senioritis comes with many symptoms: low attendance, procrastination, lack of effort, exhaustion, loss of joy in class. Many of these symptoms I fell victim to long before my senior year. Where senioritis hits the most for me is in my desperation to move on as soon as possible. It’s entirely possible I’m wearing rose-colored glasses when looking to the future, and in turn the past feels dull and necessary to leave behind. But in retrospect, I’m not sure there’s much I will miss about these clouded, heatless halls that have seemed determined to give me a bad cold during the winter. It feels imminent to get out of this place and start a new chapter of my life, and because of this, coming to school feels nearly impossible every day. I think that high school can either make everything or nothing feel irrevocable, and for me it has been the latter. So, approaching the end of high school couldn’t come sooner and it feels as though around every corner, something enticing lays ahead. However, in this excitement toward the future and willingness to turn away from everything I’ve known these past four years, I’ve stopped giving any care toward school. For the entirety of my high school career, I’ve done my work, been on time, and put effort into everything with the hope that I could rush through it or karma would pay off eventually. Now, however, the knowledge that it will end soon makes everything seem so useless.

Over a plate of Chinese takeout, I remember with great lucidity listening to my parents talk about how hard it was for them to even remember high school and how little from high school lasts forever. I’ve learned that over the years, which means maybe I’ve taken these years for granted, or maybe it means I’m just good at saying goodbye. I used to dread coming to school because it wasn’t fun for me, and it was riddled with anxiety; now I dread coming to school because it bores me, because I know there is so much more out there for me to experience and I’m itching to get out and taste it.