Fear is the reason I began keeping a journal. I was afraid of losing the "best days of my life," otherwise known as my high school life. I didn't want to lose these memories in a jumble of stressed out days, long sunny weekends, college, middle age and my elderly years. My mom keeps everything: Tupperware, bags, old tee shirts. So in a sense, I get it from my mom, except instead of being a pack-rat of tangible items. I am a pack-rat of memories. I save it all.
I got my journal in the weeks leading up to high school. The first entries reveal a boy who doesn't quite know where he stands going into the big world of high school. Will it be just like in the movies? Nerds being picked on by the football jocks, a social structure that was set in stone from the first day? He certainly was not ready for that. I talk of my first kiss. The way it didn't meet up to the sparks that were supposed to fly, and the romance that was supposed to ensue. The disappointment it had for me. I had been robbed of the single most important thing that to ever happen in my life, at least that's what I wrote. The book that houses all these early high school memories is tattered now, not quite as pristine as the small leather-bound book I bought in Barnes and Noble. That was part of it too. Appearance was key, and the fancy leather journal was all a part of it, I thought it made me look sophisticated. "Maybe if they think I know what I'm doing, then I will know what to do," I wrote. Everything was uncertain; I was afraid. Afraid that people wouldn't like me. Afraid that I wouldn't be smart enough or good enough for everyone else, who seemed to have it all put together. But buried in these entries is the hope that everything would get sorted out. That maybe somehow, in the end everything happened for some reason and that the world would keep spinning no matter what.
Now four years later, the themes are the same. I'm still afraid. Afraid that these high school days will be behind me. Afraid of what lies ahead: moving out, being on my own, the perceived isolation that will begin again at the start of college. But something I see in these entries, is that the hope outlives the fear. I wrote recently about how I "wish that I never wished to become a part of the background of my life." The hopes I write of, need to lead to action, and in high school it did. I did make friends. I was good enough. The thing that I see most in these entries is that life is cyclical. I wrote, not knowing of what comes next, but hopeful for the future. And now again, these same ideas endure.
May 24, 2012
"I'm not sure what it is I see for today, but that's why it will be a good day."
The first entries reveal a boy,who doesn't quitenot knowing where he stands going intoas he the big world of high school.
The way it didn't meet up toresult in the sparks that were supposed to fly, and the romance that was supposed to ensue.
The disappointment it had for me.
Re-word this sentence, you are still referring to the kiss, right?
I had been robbed of the single most important thing thatevent to ever happen in my life, at least that's what I wrote.
The hopes I write of, need to lead to action, and in high school it did. I did make friends. I was good enough. The thing that I see most in these entries is that life is cyclical.
This is a great point, I like these things... Can you give the essay a bit more of a positive spin? If you could try to be a bit more inspiring, reveal what lessons you learned, if any. This essay needs more details about you and your personality, and a bit less of the fear stuff, I know that fear is the theme, but it needs to be more purposeful. Sounds good so far, but I'd work with this essay a bit more. Good luck in school!
