I used to think we were, but I also used to think that you told me everything. I thought you trusted me. It wasn’t until recently that I found out I was wrong.
I’ve always been aware of just how different we are but that never mattered to me. I would do just about anything to relate to you. The older I get the more I understand that we are different people.
Your friends are nothing like my friends and for the past four years it seems like you would rather be with them than with me whenever possible. Why do you choose to be close with certain people, why do you try so hard to be like them?
Sometimes I feel like we’re making progress, and then the next day I feel like you’re more distant than ever.
I want you to care about me. I want you to like me. And I know that you do, but you show it so rarely that I almost always forget.
So when you do little things like not inviting me places or blocking me on social media – things that normally wouldn’t bother me coming from people I don’t care about – it feels like betrayal.
Even when you are so unkind and when you act like you don’t care, I always forgive you. Maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to forgive, but I want you to accept me so badly that I pretend not to be bothered.
Sometimes I think you don’t have very good judgement and it scares me. I worry that you don’t take care of yourself. I worry about you more than you know.
When you let me in it means the world. When you shut me out it makes me feel like I don’t matter. And you don’t even realize it.
Maybe it will be better when we’re older. Maybe I’ll just have to accept that we’re different people, that we have different goals and different views. Maybe I just care more than you do, maybe I shouldn’t care so much.
Actually, I probably give some of the worst advice I’ve ever heard.
But, one thing that I’m probably even worse at is managing stress, and, more importantly, giving people advice about it. Because, in all actuality, I have no idea how to manage it and I don’t think anyone really does.
Stress comes in all shapes and sizes. It can be as little as that paper you know you should have enough time to write for your English class, yet you psych yourself out because, after all, it is a big chunk of your grade. And stress can be as big as….. well anything. It can take over your life and control you if you let it.
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For me, one of my larger stresses I refer to as competition stress. This comes with all sports competitions, no matter the magnitude of it. It’s the pressure and the anxiety sitting on your shoulders like a bird watching its pray from way above so the pray can’t see them.
Lastly, the big stress, the whole shebang, is what I call the stalker stress; this is the type that even if you kick, scream, run, and hide it’ll find you somehow. It is the type of stress that resembles a person you don’t want to get to know, and one that you hope doesn’t know you. It is the boogie man hiding under you bed when you’re little and the clown hiding behind your door. It’s the reason that you hate walking alone in the dark because you don’t exactly know what you’re scared of at this point, you just know you’re scared.
But, I’ve learned one thing, and if people do ask me about stress this is the only true piece of advice I can give: it’s hard to manage stress, but it’s even harder not to be scared of it. So once you manage how to not be scared of the inevitable, life becomes easier, I don’t exactly know how, it just does.
P.S. I don’t want you to go on thinking that I have it all figured out, because I don’t. I’m so far away from it, but I’m managing, and will continue to until I can stop stressing about the little things and go on living life. But that will be a while, because it’s difficult and stressful.
It feels like just yesterday when my childhood friends and I were placing graham crackers in our kindergarten cubbies for our Thumbelina dolls to eat, or sitting under the big, protective oak tree, hiding acorns from the boys in our class.
Flash-forward ten years and here we are today, possibly closer than ever, but yet there is a division between us, and secrets hiding underneath the smiles flashed to each other.
We sit down at the plastic lunch tables, and pretend to laugh at jokes we don’t get. We then walk away, our group separates, and we don’t see each other until the next class.
It’s weird to think we would hide anything from each other but maybe I did something that changed that. It’s hard to not always blame yourself, for things you know aren’t your fault, but maybe someone else thinks they are.
You try to confide in people who you once would, but things are uncomfortable, so you tuck your feelings away. And at last, your childhood friends are falling into different groups, and, finally, your group is divided.
You’re probably the single most important person in my life and we have an expiration date. I tear up whenever I think about losing you, and I drown in tears each time I realize that it is inevitable.
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I will miss you. I will miss your beautiful bright smile from across the room, all your jokes (that are horrid by the way, but still better than mine), your amazing eyes when I simply need someone to stare at me with so much love and make me feel wanted, your stained soul that matches mine, all the warmth you can give me with a single hug, I don’t think there’s one thing I won’t miss.
You’re so sweet, you’re so romantic, you’re so good, you’re mine. I am so lucky to call you mine.
I want things to stay the way they are, I want to hold on to you forever, to the 251 days since I began to fall in love with you. That is not enough time for me to love you the way you deserve to be loved, and not nearly enough time for me to get sick of you in any way. I can’t even imagine that. I can’t imagine leaving you. We deserve more time.
At the end of the day, we’re going to be fine. We will live, and at one point we will move on. I just wish we didn’t have to. And who knows, maybe our lucky paths will meet again.
“You know, sometimes I just wanna stay like this forever. Just here, laying with you.” I look over to Will, right next to me on our school’s soccer field.
“Yeah, I like how the stars shine through the clouds.”
There is a short moment of silence. Not an awkward one, just long enough for us to think about our thoughts one more time.
“It kind of… makes you appreciate the stars more, ya know? One moment they’re there, and seconds later it’s like they’ve never existed.”
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“They’re always there, Will.” I say, turning my head towards him again, but he is just looking at the dark grey-blue spots covering the sky.
“I know,” he replies. “But it makes me sad when it’s winter and it rains all day, and we can’t see them,” he sighs. “But again, we wouldn’t appreciate them as much. I guess.”
I try to think of a comparison. “It’s like… summer break. You always wait for it all year, you want it to last forever, but then the months pass, you don’t have anyone to hang out with, and you’re actually excited for school to start. I don’t know, that’s what it reminds me of.”
Will has turned around now. “I wouldn’t know, I don’t go to school, remember?”
“Oh, yeah…” I let my head fall back into the short grass. “Sometimes I forget that you’re just in my head.”
Will sits up, looking down at my half closed eyes. “I’m not. I’m right here. But I’m here just for you.” His voice is sharper than just a second ago. Did I make him mad?
“But Will, isn’t that the same thing?” He opens his mouth, as if he wanted to say something, but he doesn’t. “At least that’s what Dr. Melder said.” I say, while pushing myself upright. He gets up and takes a step forward, throwing his head back with his hands covering his face.
“Are you serious? You still listen to him? Jenna, we’ve been over this like a hundred times by now! We don’t trust him, remember?” I stand up too. “But… why not?” I stutter.
“We just don’t.”
I stand still. “No, Will, you don’t.”
“Oh, come on, what’s the difference?”
“Aha, so you admit it, you are just a part of me.”
“I’ve never said I’m not a part of you, Jenna.”
I’m confused. “But you just said you’re not in my head.”
“Because I’m not!” Will screams.
I’m getting kinda loud now. I always get loud when I’m frustrated. “Ugh! Will, you’re not real, you get it? You’re one of my fantasies. But that’s okay, I still love you.” I can see a tear rolling down his cheek in the dark.
“That’s all I am to you, huh? A fantasy, a thought?… Well… Is that all I am?!” He is screaming, but that’s okay, because no one can hear him anyways.
“Yes, okay? You’re a fantasy. That’s what you are, that’s what you’ve always been, that’s what you’re here for. You’re here because I made you up, because apparently I’m insane. Believe me, I’d rather have actual friends than some guy living in my head. But we can’t always get what we want. We never can.”
He’s actually crying now, but I don’t feel bad. I want him to leave, leave me forever. Not because I don’t love him, but because I don’t want to be this way anymore.
Without saying a word, he walks past me, hitting his shoulder agains mine when he passes, and starts to run. “Will! No, don’t!”
I know what he wants to do. I run after him. He’s heading towards the highway. I run as fast as I can, but my mind will always allow him to be faster.
There he is, standing in the middle of the highway. “Will, are you crazy?”
“Yes!” he screams. “And so are you!”
I can see his face in the light of the houses nearby. Tears are streaming down his cheeks, his nose, his chin, leaving lines of clean skin on his dirty face. I run towards him, ready to bring him back home, where it’s safe. But as I rush to hug him, I fall through him.
He really is just a fantasy.
I turn around and stare at him, horrified. He smiles. “You should’ve appreciated the stars more. One moment they’re there—seconds later it’s like they never existed.”
His body is shining brightly now, but it’s too late when I realize these are the headlights of a car coming straight at me.
What is Thanksgiving? You’ll probably answer with: “It’s an American holiday and as the name suggests, it’s an occasion for people to be thankful for all the blessings in their lives.” But what’s the origin of Thanksgiving? When the Pilgrims arrived in America, they had trouble growing crops and in 1620 that lead to a famine that killed half of the Pilgrims. Fortunately for them, the Wampanoag tribe taught them how to farm on their soil and later in 1621 the Pilgrims had their first successful harvest. The Wampanoag tribe was then invited to a feast known as the “First Thanksgiving.”
As a non-US citizen, I was very curious to see how people celebrate Thanksgiving because it’s taken very seriously. Growing up, I used to love Thanksgiving specials on shows like “How I Met Your Mother” and “The Simpsons.” I knew the basics of Thanksgiving, but have never experienced it.
The food is fantastic, I never knew that turkey and cranberry sauce can go together so well. What I really appreciate about this holiday is the opportunity to reflect on your life and realize how many things we should be grateful for. I was lucky enough to spend Thanksgiving with my family and it was very sweet to have the whole day to keep saying how much we mean to each other. I’d say this experience has brought us closer in a way.
This was a very successful first Thanksgiving. Here’s to many more!
For so long, I’d been hung up on you, I still cared.
I cared about what you would think of me, I wanted to know what you were up to. For so long, I was sad. I cried over you and over the parts of me that you came to know so well. You didn’t deserve to know me like that.
But I thought I knew you, too. It’s a strange feeling to have your perception of someone completely flipped in a matter of days, it makes your mind sort of dizzy.
And then I was sad about the friendship that was lost. We went from speaking every day for months to walking past each other without saying a word.
Then you messed up. And there was no one to blame but yourself and now I don’t see you at all.
At first I was confused about what happened, because the person I’d known would have never been so stupid. I thought that maybe you’d just changed since the time that I knew you, but now I realize that you didn’t change at all. I just didn’t know you in the first place.
So then you left again. And when you didn’t even try to reach out I thought maybe this time you’d be gone forever.
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And just when I thought it was over, you showed up at my front door. You went on and on about how great your life has been and how happy you are and how much everyone will miss you. But you didn’t realize that by saying all of this it became so obvious just how embarrassed you are. You made yourself into more of a fool than you already were.
I started thinking about all of the things I wanted to say to you, all of the words I had planned out in my head for the past three months that could have put you in your place, but now I think you already know. Based on the fact that you spent so long trying to convince me that you’re better off, you only showed me that you were just trying to convince yourself. And I guess some things are better left unsaid.
Then you had to leave, so we said “goodbye” but I thought “good riddance.” You walked away and I didn’t start to cry like I had done before; I laughed.
I laughed for a long time and I smiled and I was happy because I knew that finally I was totally, completely done with you. Normally I would have told you that I hope you find happiness or good luck or some other thing you’re supposed to say when someone leaves, but I didn’t. It wouldn’t have been true. For the first time I can honestly say that I don’t care one bit about what you’re doing with your life and I don’t feel bad.
I did learn a lot from you, though. Thank you for helping me realize that I was right, that you don’t deserve to be in my life and you’re not worth all of the time I wasted. I’m not mad anymore.
Like so many students at this school, I don’t live at home. I don’t even live in my home country, not even on the same continent. So many people at this school took the risk of moving across the globe, to learn english and live a life on this beautiful hill with rosy sunsets and a breathtaking night sky. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.
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When I first came here I was 13, and to be honest, my English was pretty miserable. I still recall the moment I got on the plane to LAX, and a flight attendant tried talking to me in English. I remember how I barely understood her and froze, and thought to myself, “Holy hell, I can’t do this!”.
As the days passed, I became more and more anxious about going to school where everything is in a language I hardly know. But the second the first OVS student talked to me, it was all gone. Well, most of it. I realized that I, by far, was not the only international student, and that everyone here was willing to help me feel as much at home as possible.
I remember always looking over to my brother, seeing him talk to other students already. And then there was me, sitting in the corner with my beloved social anxiety. I imagined the next year to be like one of these movies, where the awkward new kid doesn’t find any friends. Oh, how wrong I was!
I can’t express how thankful I am for everyone here. For my roommate, who helped me with literally anything, no matter if it was about a word I didn’t understand, or where to find my classrooms, and who supplied me with snacks and BuzzFeed quizzes and “Mean Girls.” For all my friends and classmates who would never let me feel left out. And for all the teachers and faculty who do their best every single day to make this community work.
OVS, as cliché as this might sound, has helped me grow so much over the past years. I learned that change can be good, I learned how to socialize in an environment where I barely know anyone, I learned how to express myself without feeling judged by every human being around me. One of the things I learned, however, that I consider one of the most important ones, is that I learned how to write. I’m not a very good writer, don’t get me wrong. But before I came here the thought of me writing in a somewhat nice manner has never even occurred to me, let alone in a different language.
OVS has taught me so much. I know it is just a school, and it surely isn’t perfect. But it was this intimidating change that was needed for me, and so many other people here, to make high school a better memory than what it would have been without this place.
I collect memories in my head like a child picks up change off the pavement.
A visual: Boy walks home on the sidewalk, making sure to hop over every crack in the pavement. He spots a penny, examines it between two pinched fingers and deems the coin a lucky charm, then stuffs it into a pocket for safekeeping.
Photo Credit: FiveCentNickel.com
Change, what a funny thing it is.
I often find myself reminiscing on the past. In some ways I guess that could be a good thing, looking back on old memories. Mostly though it just makes me sad.
Photos, journals, memories, they all hit you with this bittersweet nostalgia. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time, just to relive a particular day.
Over the past few years I’ve made connections with different people, some of whom I’ve come to genuinely care about and love. Sometimes I look at some of them and wonder if in ten years I’ll still remember their face, name, or the reason why I was friends with them. It sucks, but the fact is that for a lot of them I probably won’t.
Maybe I’m afraid of change. The more I think about the past the more it makes me dread the future. I wish it wouldn’t go by so fast. I don’t want more of my friends to graduate. I don’t want to get older. But they will; I will.
I can’t control time, no one can. So I guess all I can do is take it in while I can. The good, the bad, and everything in between.
A memory: Last night I was eating dinner with four friends. I hold an imaginary camera out in front of my face and pose, making fun of the boy sitting at the end of the table. “Hey,” he says, “you have to squint your eyes more if you want it to be accurate.” A hand smacks down on top of the table, legs kick out in front of chairs, a forefinger pushed against pursed lips reprimands us for the eruption of shrieks and giggles. We laugh so hard that our stomachs ache and tears spill out of our eyes.
I hope that I’ll remember that moment, even though it’s sort of insignificant in the grand scheme of things. But, hey, it’s the little things that count, right?
In that moment I realized that I have some wonderful, genuine people in my life, and I’m so lucky to be able to call them my best friends.
A piece of advice (for myself and whoever might be reading this): Keep picking up all the pennies you find, even if they don’t seem lucky. Everyone can use a little spare change.
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