The Junior Me

I find it so weird that I used to despise seltzer so much when I was younger, and now if I don’t have a Waterloo Blackberry Lemonade I will be throwing hands, respectively. Anyways, the writers block has been very real lately. I think it’s because I’m forced to write so much for school, that my creative battery dies because I use it all on essays and DBQs. The funny thing is I have absolutely no care for the topics I write about in school, yet the passion always finds me.

Quarter 1 grades are coming out tomorrow and I’m very nervous. It’s my junior year, and I can’t say this enough, people weren’t lying about junior year, it truly is a test of mental stability. Ιf I had to guess how many times I’ve cried since September 2nd, I would say give or take 20 times. Well, at least my mom’s money didn’t;t go to waste when she bought all those Kleenex tissue boxes from Costco. I swear she got 20 boxes for like $12.00, absolute insanity. I’ve been going crazy about my grades, to the point where I writing down predictions for each class. I know I should stop obsessing, but I think too much about the future, that I just can’t help it.

I asked my teacher, who has yet to put a single grade into the portal for me, what his grading policy was and he said: “well you know, quality and quantity.” I’m sorry, but isn’t that every teacher’s base line grading policy? This year, my teachers are much harsher graders; I finds myself constantly getting caught in mistakes that I’ve made countless times, and am just now getting held accountable for them.

I digress. My independent study teacher gave me Hamilton, the musical, as homework. This just shows school was never that serious. Lately I look for anything to lighten the mood, like things that make me feel little. I love feeling like I’m five sometimes, not in a immature way, but in aI naive and innocent way. I constantly find myself loving kids shows or movies, not the new Disney channel stuff though, I like the cute animated stuff from 10 year ago. I regret wanting to grow up so much. Who did I think I was, at seven years old, putting on my mom’s bra and attempting to do Smokey eyes.

If I had to send one message to me, 10 years ago, is please don’t rush growing up because one day you’re gonna realize that you’re at the age you wanted to be and you can never go back to playing with Barbie’s, go out without a bra, or patiently wait to bleed 4-6 days a month.

Anyways, I am in my junior year, whether I like it or not. I’m gonna keep trying to convince myself that I am fine and that it isn’t even that bad, while I chug coffee and think 6:00 pm is 12:00 pm because it’s pitch black outside.