I can’t wait to leave you behind and move on and climb a new mountain, make a new place my new home. But that doesn’t mean that I won’t miss you.
It’s crazy to think that a couple years ago you were nothing to me but three letters. Just another place in another country in another town that I had never even heard of. Now, your little green campus means the whole world to me.
You taught me to be happy on my own, you taught me to be sad and to think. You taught me English, you taught me how to write. You taught me how to love and to hate and how to cut people out of my life for my own good and how hard and nearly impossible that can be. You taught me to speak up and to find my voice, just like you taught me how to listen and be there for the people around me.
You’ve also taken a lot from me. You’ve taken my last four years of living at home. You’ve nearly taken one of the best friendships I’ve ever had and you’ve taken a part of my home country from me. You’ve taken my feeling of absolutely belonging anywhere at all.
But, then again, maybe that is just a part of growing up, a process that you so conveniently sped up for me and now I can move along with that advantage. I thank you for that.
I am ready to keep going and keep moving just like you’ve been telling me to do. But I’ll miss you.
I’ll miss your oak trees and pink afternoon hills. I’ll miss your lunch lines and movie nights, your encouraging words and worthless meetings. I’ll miss the people you’ve brought into my life. I’ll miss the rooms that we’ve lived in and the road up the hill we all hate. I’ll miss your flaming hot skies and succulents and I’ll miss your stars, your beautiful stars. I’ll miss your tired breakfast conversations, your van rides and the songs we’ve belted on them. It’s really been a wild couple of years.
I’ve started this draft several times. I’ve written sentences and sentences only to change them, revise them, and, eventually, just completely eradicate them and end where I started: with nothing. Because every time I try to write about this, I can’t formulate the right words to say. Even though I’ve discovered at OVS that one of my biggest passions is writing, I’m speechless when I try to write about what these last four years meant to me.
When I came to OVS for the first time, I was an awkward freshman. I had no friends, no idea what I was doing, and no idea who I was or who I wanted to be.
The four years to follow threw me in for a loop of highs and lows in self development, friendships, and life. Now I have just a couple days until the craziest, most amazing four years of my life come to an end. Every year at this time, I had a strong desire for the days to end as quickly as possible so I could enjoy my summer break. This time, I’m scared for the inevitable last day of school to come. I’m holding on to every last second I can.
I’ve been to three graduations here. Every single one making me sadder than the rest, but there was always happiness in my heart when I’d hug my friends goodbye for the summer, especially because I knew I’d see them again. On May 31st, I’ll hug all my friends, but, when fall rolls around, I won’t see them again on the hill that’s been my second home for the past four years. We’ll all be scattered across the country taking on different cities and pursuing different passions. We won’t see each other at breakfast every morning or at the barn at the end of every day. We’ll see each other through FaceTime calls and at reunions during our holiday breaks. I’m bound to cry at graduation because of it all.
I’m happy we’re all going to colleges we want to go to and I know that these friends are the ones I’ll have for life. But the realization that this is our last week as high schoolers together is still sending a wave of shock over me that I’ve been drowning in the past couple weeks.
I’m horrified for what the future holds, but, at the same time, I feel so ready. Four years ago, I wasn’t sure if I would ever be ready for college and eight years ago I didn’t have any faith that I would even be going to college. Now, I’m excited to walk into the unknown and I have OVS to thank for it all:
For being a school that’s given me the opportunity to branch out and try everything I could ever want to try. I didn’t have to stick to one niche. I got to be a risk-taking athlete, an unfiltered writer, a confident leader, and everything in between.
The equestrian program for giving me a horse I love more than myself. For giving me a place I’ve made my best friends.
The camping trips where I went running through the Yosemite forests at night time with no flashlight and rode the bull of the raft while river rafting on the Kern trip. For making me push my limits and having them turn out to be the most rewarding moments of my life. For making me realize I love camping even though I hate going days without showering.
For my AP Spanish class making me fall in love with the language all over again and decide to study abroad in Spain instead of France. Law/Gov class that furthered my excitement to move to D.C. to study politics and intern on Capitol Hill. Especially for my journalism class that provided a source of gossip, a place to rant, and an endless supply of snacks, but more importantly, it has given me an outlet to explore writing and inspire me to pursue it in college.
Thank you for everything. For the good, the bad, and everything in between. No words could say it all.
I’m not gonna lie and say this school is perfect. There’s so much I’ve complained about and so many things I would change. But if I’m going to be honest, it was perfect for me. It was the place I needed for the kind of person I was to become who I am today. I had no idea what my purpose was or what my passions were and, while I’m still on a road of self-discovery, OVS put me on the right path.
You called me beautiful underneath the blue midnight light. Your hands were around my waist, your face illuminated with your favorite color, my thoughts were with you and only with you.
I can feel your breath hitting my cheek as I remember it all. I feel your warmth surrounding me in the otherwise cold air, I feel your hair falling into my face, followed by your fingers, gently pushing it back into place.
It’s a heart-wrecking game you play with me, and you don’t even know it. With all my willpower I’m desperately trying not to fall for you more than I already have, trying not to lose myself in another illusion and another love. But this is different. You are different and my weak little heart can’t handle it. Because with seemingly every blink of your existence, I fall.
I want to let it happen. I want to fall and not stop until we both hit the ground. I want to see where we can go, what we can do. But I’ve been hurt before and I’m scared. Mainly, I think, because I don’t want you to ever feel that way. It’s taken me so long to recover, and, deep down, I know that we are so much more than anything I could have ever experienced. I can’t imagine what would happen to us if we let ourselves go the way I wish we could. I know it would be beautiful.
One more week. I could spend that week thinking about all I just said, dwelling on the sadness that flushes through my body whenever I think of the little time we have left. But I shouldn’t. I should use that time, use it wisely, use it happily. I should enjoy it, every second of it, because I don’t want to regret anything. I don’t want to look back on the time we have wasted, I want to remember all that we had, even if it wasn’t enough.
i saw a picture from where i used to live and i couldn’t help but think, don’t get me wrong i am so grateful to be where i am and to have met the people i have, but i can’t help but think what it would be like if my mom never got re-married.
what if i still lived half with my dad and half with my mom? if i never came here at all?
i’ve never thought about the house since we moved out, but now that i am, i miss it.
i miss the holes in the walls separating the living room and the hallway where the old buddha statue sat on the ground.
i miss the CD player in my sister’s room and i miss when she would make me dance in front of her cool high-school friends.
i miss when my siblings would get along and when my grandma would still cook for us during the holidays.
i miss the little cabinet in the hallway across from my dad’s room that held all my shitty clothes he would find for me.
i miss the trampoline and my brothers old drum set that was in the garage.
i miss when my dad would take me to blockbuster, when he would let me ride my sisters’ electric scooters, and when we would sneak into the elementary school down the street to play handball.
i even miss the pasta he would make every single night, the scratchy popcorn ceiling, and being forced to sit on the floor in the living room and watch avatar with my dad.
i miss my family, i miss my old neighbors.
i miss my family, my sisters, my brother, my dad, my grandma and her boyfriend (rest in paradise by the way, marvin). like i said, feeling a little extra-reminiscent tonight.
i miss being young. shit! one day soon, i’m going to miss being the age i am now.
I used to think it was all behind me. I truly thought that, but something recently has been telling me that maybe it’s not.
I’m no longer skinny. I’m no longer underweight. I don’t weigh eighty-something pounds anymore. My heart isn’t in critical condition like it was. I no longer refuse to eat. I no longer have an eating disorder. The physical parts are gone, but some of the mental parts have stayed. No, I no longer cry before every meal, have multiple panic attacks daily, or slit my wrists. I no longer do any of those things, but sometimes I feel like I’m trapped in the days that I did.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m so much better than I was. So, so, so much better than I was. I guess what I’m trying to say is: yes I’m better, but no, I’m not perfect.
I’ve been stressed studying for finals lately, so I decided that skipping lunch would give me more time to study. There’s nothing wrong with this; its normal to skip meals time to time. What made me know something was up came later. I wasn’t skipping meals to lose weight or get skinner, it was for another reason.When I would skip lunch, my stomach would begin to gnaw and churn after a while. I like the feeling because it tells me that nothing is in my stomach, that my stomach is empty… I like it because the feeling of hunger distracts me from the emptiness I feel almost every single day.
Certain things give me flashbacks of what I went through, almost like PTSD in a way. For example, when my father buys a certain brand of sliced turkey. One day, my father had gone to the store. I asked him to buy a specific type of turkey, the turkey with 50 calories per two ounces. When he came back, he had bought a type which had 52 calories. I began to cry, my frail and bony body collapsed and my mother lunged to the floor where I lay, just as scared as I was, and tried to get me up. I wouldn’t move. I just stayed there. I just stayed on the floor sobbing and mumbling the words “I don’t want to live anymore” over and over again. My mom held her thirteen-year-old and dying daughter in her hands. She picked me up carefully and carried me to my bed, where she laid with me and we cried in unison… all of this over turkey. Now, whenever I see this brand of turkey in the fridge, its like that day fills my mind, takes over me, and haunts me. It’s different though, I’m not the girl on the floor anymore. I am a ghost watching in the corner, unable to do anything as I watch my mom and I suffer. As much as I try to reach out to myself and say “i’s okay, it’s going to be okay,” I can’t. As much as I try to get the memory to stop looping in my mind, it continues to replay and replay with more and more detail every loop. Just like the turkey, there are many more symbols equated with awful memories from my eating disorder. Natural Cafe,the white tank top on the bottom of my dresser,Pressed Juicery, my birthday, King’s Hawaiian Rolls, string cheese, buzz-cuts, and safety pins are just some of the items tied with memories even worse than the one above. Memories that I try to keep locked away for a reason.
I like to pretend like it’s behind me, but deep down I know it’s not. I honestly don’t think it will ever be. I’m not saying that I am in danger in any way shape or form if going back to how I used to be. All I am saying is (in honor of mental health awareness month) it’s okay to not be 100% okay.
it was flying above the grass at the park, i was having a picnic.
it was pretty and it was green .
not grass green, but lime green.
then, i remembered that green was the color of your room before you redecorated it last summer
and then i saw your room and what it used to look like before you thought your drawings were stupid and before you decided you liked purple more.
from there, i saw you and how you looked last week and then how you made me laugh really hard the other night.
then, i thought if we will ever go anywhere.
and then i think about other people who might be more exciting than you, but how you’re nice too.
i think about my friend’s friend and how maybe he’s fun to talk to.
then, i get going on conversations.
i remember that i want to meet an aquarius, because i heard that they are really compatible with gemini’s and
what i really think i need right now is someone i’m compatible with.
no more of this taurus-virgo bullshit!
but, she’s a taurus and he’s a capricorn.
i think that maybe they’ll be the exception, but, in the back of my mind, i know neither of them will be because taurus are too routine, stubborn, and clingy for me and capricorn-
well, i don’t know much about capricorn, but i looked up our compatibility and it’s not good.
and that will be stuck in the back of my head for just about ever.
now, i completely forget about you and him and her and conversations and zodiac signs, (particularly taurus, virgos, and capricorns) and then i think about the lyrics to the sing deceptecon by le tigre and then i think about the whole riot grrrl movement
and how i wish i was apart of it and how i wonder if it’s still alive today in any form and how if it is then those people involved are people i wanna know.
i think about how i need to make a new playlist and
about how cluttered my playlists are along with my mind and then i get overwhelmed because i get overwhelmed easily.
how maybe if i make a new playlist with music other than rap i’ll feel better and life will make much more sense then.
and then i snap back into it because the lady giving me a massage hits my back harder than expected and tells me she’s finished with the massage and my neck still hurts, oh, and i was never looking at a butterfly at all.