Fridays use to come with an unreal amount of relief, knowing that the weekend had finally arrived. On Fridays, I would have a long day of classes, followed by sports practice of some sort, and sometimes, the day would end with a school basketball or football game.
A year ago, I thought my Fridays would be filled with lectures, followed by fun nights with the new friends I met. I thought I would be attending the University of my choice, studying journalism, writing for the school paper – doing all the things I thought the next four years of my life would so perfectly contain.
Instead, I sit here writing this post from my room. No, not my college dorm room – the room I’ve lived in for a little over two years; the room I spent hours upon hours in doing school work my senior year. The room that is messy and cluttered. The room I wanted to be able to come back and visit during my vacation time from school.
I didn’t want to stay in this town. I wanted to venture out, meet new people, learn new things, and attempt to live on. But now, I feel like I took a step backwards. Nearly every single one of my best friends left me. I wish I could see them everyday and share the memories I will be making along the way with them. But today: I can’t.
Am I angry? Yes. Do I have an actual reason to feel this way? No.
An abundance of activities have taken place of this past year. Many people had visions of where I would end up after high school, and I know many of them never had the thought that I was going to stay in Bend.
I’ve always been an independent, self-driven girl. When I actually set my mind to something, fully and 100 percent, I could conquer any challenge that placed itself in front of me. But, you see, as the days passed by and college got closer, I seemed to lose this sense of direction. Though I graduated with the perfect grades I always strived for, I found myself wondering where I went wrong in my four years of high school.
I never realized how many regrets I truly had until I started my first term in college. Reminiscing on the days of cross country, I wish I would have tried harder; I wish I would have dedicated those hot afternoons of running to actually become a better athlete.
When you’re on your own in the world, you never realize how high school was actually the best time of your life.
Now it is winter. I realized I really did enjoy skiing, but I never was motivated enough to try in practice, to lift more in the weight room, to try and beat everyone when we had to do stairs on the football stands.
Soon spring will arrive, and I will think about my very last district tennis match. I think about this day a lot. Going into my first set, I had hopes of winning – knowing that this was for once attainable. I lost one point, only to lose the next. Discouraged, I gave up. I realized that all the work I put into this season hadn’t paid off and because of that I wanted the match to be over as soon as humanly possible. My four years of playing tennis quickly drifted away, as well as all the hopes for I had for my senior year.
Now, as I am seven weeks into my second year of college. I try to understand why I never put in more work to the things I loved so much.
To keep it simple, it’s Friday, and I am not entirely sure where I am going to end up.