I hate getting into trouble, but I love doing things I’m not supposed to.

I don’t mean anything illegal, or anything that could get me into serious trouble, just little things like sketching on my desk or talking to my friends for a little too long in the hallway, causing me to be late for my next class.

Little things that made high school bearable for four years, like drowning in the sounds of gossip with the music from my headphones, or eavesdropping on a conversation that will not affect me in any way.

Little things like watching Friends instead of doing my math homework and meeting my friends by the lockers in between classes.

These things made high school a little more tolerable.

Although a few of these tasks could get me in minor trouble, it wasn’t any risk too big to stop me from doing them.

But not all the things that helped me entertain my brain, drowning in another day of taking notes, were things I could get in trouble for. Some things helped make life a little better without any risk.

Little things like walking from fifth to sixth hour with Katelynn Heilman junior year, or meeting Veronica Vincent to walk down to lunch together before we had to return to eat in our classrooms sophomore year.

Little things that kept me sane for the eight-hour days five days a week, like Val Garza and I distracting Mr. Ivory freshman year so we wouldn’t have to sing, or asking Celine Merhi if I could go to her house after school almost every day so I didn’t have to ride the bus sophomore year.

Little things like Lydia Bolger and I exchanging looks in zero hour when someone says something we find a little too funny, or getting excited to see Allison Kelly at lunch because it’s the only time I see her all day or a quick coffee run with Masyn Cole between school and work.

The little things that make each day a little easier, the little things that make me forget I’ve been in the same building, eight hours a day, five days a week, for four years. The little things I know I will miss dearly when I leave, knowing I’ll never walk the halls that held me captive from my classes or sit in the plastic green chairs attached to the desks with faded pencil marks.

The little things like how there are some people who helped make my high school experience that I can no longer mention by name, due to falling outs and the fear of the awkwardness if they happen to stumble across this story or the people who have no idea what kind of impact they have had on me in these four years.

My whole life I have been told to appreciate the little things, and while I assumed I had been too caught up in the stress, excitement, and sorrows of the future to remember that advice; it’s the little things from my four years at Forest Hills Central I remember to recall most vividly.

So, while I hate getting in trouble, the small rebellious acts I made in order to make high school a little more tolerable were worth the potential risks each and every time.