Here’s to the second half of Chapter 12

My+favorite+pictures+from+my+last+marching+band+performance+at+Ford+Field.

Alex Smith

My favorite pictures from my last marching band performance at Ford Field.

Chapter 1 didn’t go as planned.

I thought I would be able to start over completely after the last story ended, but it’s clear to me now that I was wrong. There is no starting over. Not when the series has already begun, and the words are already on the page.

This story started with the same setting, but slightly different characters. As the chapters evolved, I realized that I, too, was somewhat different. I’m a little less of the scared little girl that found herself as the main character of a book she hadn’t written, and more like the author of a story I now choose to write.

I closed last year with the fossilization of my words on this site, and immediately assumed I would never write another word for The Central Trend . Since then the words have formed an ever-growing void in my heart—a void I wish to fill.

I’m a little less of the scared little girl that found herself as the main character of a book she hadn’t written, and more like the author of a story I now choose to write.”

So now I’m back. I’m back to populating this site with my never-ending slew of thoughts. My always-working brain has not stopped putting my thoughts into words and my words into stories. I have once again filled my Google Drive with words I would have said if given the chance. Not just one Google Drive account, either. I’m halfway through a second. The words never stopped begging to be let out, so I had no choice but to allow it.

The characters of this story have shifted slightly, some are different and some have been in every story for as long as I can remember. My arcs with these characters have evolved immensely. Side characters have grown into co-protagonists and previous main characters have fizzled into nothing but acquaintances.

I’ve attempted a new form of writing, which wasn’t for me. I’ve changed my current plan for the rest of my life, and I’ve narrowed down my list of colleges I might call home in less than a year. I’ve found myself, if only slightly more than before.

There have been a lot of lasts that I haven’t been able to write about. My last time on the field was surreal. Surrounded by the people who have been my family for four years, I stepped across a field with a huge blue lion in the center. My last Homecoming was magical, even though I only stayed at the dance for an hour. My last day of school with a couple of the people who mean the world to me was sad, and I miss them already.

Now I’m preparing for more lasts, but this semester I will be able to put all of my feelings about the end into words.

I can’t promise the columns that I will populate this site with will be happy. Life as I know it is coming to an end, and none of that makes me particularly joyful. I do, however, promise that behind every word I write is a girl that is full of hope she is only just finding. Hope for the future. Hope for the rest of her final days of high school. As she gets closer to the end, this girl’s hope only grows stronger.

Here’s to the last 131 days.