300,000 items. 47% of toys and children’s books. 1.2 trillion dollars.
Sophomore year has gone well.
It has gone stressfully, exasperatingly, quickly.
I just wore the same dress I wore when I entered this building in the summer two years ago when I was blonde instead of brunette. I am still like Dorothy, and I still wear the same staples but in different configurations.
If I went back to August, what would I do differently? Take away a sport, add another class, cut out some music, or relax?
Probably, most of the same. There would be a few adjustments, but the major themes would persist, I think.
I am glad to spend my lunches in the sun again. From the time we leave behind the last remnants of summer, to the moment it becomes tolerable enough to return outdoors, the inside of the school is somewhat suffocating.
Not entirely, because I enjoy my winters here, but overarchingly, it was too dry and dark and monochrome beige.
The first month and the last month are the best seasons. They are when nothing can be taken too seriously, and most people are restless, and the times that I would be okay if I didn’t have to leave.
But, the cycle is already beginning again, and I am already being subjected to the next year here without fully completing this one. As much as I loved to spend my Friday nights in a uniform standing in a lengthy line, I would be okay with breathing before doing it all again.
Here we go (again), green and white!
While I won’t dedicate myself to all the same commitments, the beginning of next year should feel similar. Well, I guess I will no longer be on the younger side of things, which is something new.
Right now I feel like I am almost the same as I was in August. But, as I ponder it more deeply, I think I might not be. Maybe I am just assuming I am thinking the same way I thought when I was on the brink of 16 without actually remembering how I was thinking. I am deciding that the shifts have passed by just subtly enough that I haven’t noticed them until stepping back.
Do I really remember what I thought nine months ago when I hadn’t lived the nine months that are now in the forefront of my consciousness? I think we are different people. The same in principle but different if you were to examine closely. If you were tracking my mannerisms, the words I have added to my dialect, and the way I carry myself, it would be apparent that my disposition has been altered.
If you read the 800-word piece I wrote about the clothes I loved to wear when it wasn’t too brisk but not sweltering either and then reread what you are reading right now, you should know they are not the same. Not from the same set of keys either.
I think I know what I am saying more than I did in August. I know I know more of what I think now than I did in August.
As I wrote to my future, I made sure to mention these moments.
I hate speaking in absolutes, and I don’t like to say things if they’re not true, so I am being honest. Sophomore year has come and gone well.
