High school is something I have dreamt about. I wanted to be the cheerleader floating atop her bases. I wanted to wear sparkly dresses to Homecoming. I wanted to have a bunch of friends, but most importantly, I wanted to be able to call this school home. I wanted to miss it after I left, and I wanted to reminisce about the memories of each year. 

This is, however, my third year at FHC, and yet the last time anything felt normal enough to fit my perfect expectations of high school was the first semester of my freshman year. 

Everything was as it should be back then—perfectly high school. I complained and whined about tests and not having any friends at lunch. Everything was just consistent.

But then my sophomore year hit me like a never-ending explosion. All I wanted was to have the normal, boring, consistent schedule back. I desperately tried to push my way through the chaos, but it was so thick I never thought I would reach the surface. 

Now, I am hesitant to accept my current reality. I walk from class to class, and I can see with my own two eyes that the school is full once again. I can tell by the distinct fumes that seep out of the lunchroom that I am finally back sitting at a round table, no more than two feet away from someone on either side. I can feel the speed at which my weeks fly by when they are no longer rudely interrupted by fully online days, and yet, I am hesitant to call this space safe.

I am hesitant to breathe. I still walk through this school and these familiar halls as if they are made of glass. If I make one wrong move, it will determine if we all get to continue living out this “normal” life. 

The feeling of consistency was snatched away from me my freshman year, and now I do not know how to take it back, even when it’s being handed to me. 

I fear I might be scarred too deeply, and this current reality is like life’s cruel joke, and once I accept my new, happier, fate, it will be swept out from underneath me, just like all the times before. 

Living amongst the chaos was too much for my “type A” brain to handle. It felt as if we were all just standing still while the world spun around us, but now once again society, the world, and I, are all on the same page, or so I think. 

This year, now that I once again have a grip on the world, I intend to get back to my childish view of high school. I will pretend that everyone in the student section is yelling specifically for me as I stand afloat on my bases. On Saturday, I will wear the most glamorous dress I could find for Homecoming, and most importantly, I will leave this place with enough fond memories to make up for sophomore year.