I moved into my current home the first year I started high school. I’d gone from a sheltered, all-girls middle school, to a mixed high school bursting with adrenaline (and other hormones). We were all raging with excitement to begin a new chapter.
Thanks to Ariel Murray for modeling.
Most of us were new to the school so hardly anyone knew each other. Sad to say, this fact only made my behavior more awkward. As a proud owner of the title “hoarder,” I thought it only logical that I tape onto my plain walls in my room every handwritten note, bad grade, concert ticket, doodle, picture, candy wrapper, newspaper clipping, goodwill book cover, and whatever else fell into my lap.
Now those four years have gone and I’m a freshman in college, it feels so weird to come home and still see this shrine of my former self on my wall. It’s me, but it’s also not me. My dark secrets, my crushes, mementos of extraordinary memories, and other things I wish would never resurface but which I still tape up, just so I never forget to never make those mistakes again.
The wall has a mind of its own now. Not only do I tape things up, but when friends come over they add to it, too. I look at this wall, and it’s a timeline from start to finish of my high school life, and I’m so happy it exists.
High school is where I really became who I am and it’s also where I found people that I love more than anything. I treasure those memories and recall them all the time, so they never leave me. ♦