We are constantly fed this cliche that high school flies by and that it’s important we grasp hold of each moment. Being a cliche, the comment is often passed over, absorbed in one ear and shoved out the other; however, I find myself wishing I would’ve realized the honesty this statement holds.

I have yet to reach senior year, but I can feel the time closing in as junior year begins to quickly fade towards summer. Just the other day, I was a 5-foot 2-inch freshman walking through high school doors for the first time with no idea of what twists and turns my life would take. Now, I’m a 5-foot 2-(and a half)-inch junior with barely over a year left until I walk out those same doors for the last time, with a mountain of high school memories my life coursed through.

I was told many times that these four years of my life were going to fly by me, yet I never allowed this idea to stick with me. I never found myself believing that four entire years of school could go that fast. If anything, I was expecting high school to be even longer than all the previous years of school I had been to; I imagined that my last four years would drag out until, finally, I could escape the burden of school. I had no idea that over the next few years, I would end up wishing I had more time in a place I used to dread. 

In my head, I’m still that freshman. All of my friends, all of my grade, we’re still the wide-eyed new kids with so much time in front of us. I don’t see us all about to become seniors and spend our last year together before we all split and follow our own paths. I don’t feel that my twelve years with my class are quickly timing out; I don’t want that time to already be up.

Yet, I am approaching my senior year. The other day, when I was walking into the high school for the first time, was three years ago. My last day is nearly one year away. I traveled with the fast-track time of high school for nearly three years, but now I feel abruptly stopped by nostalgia as my time here continues to wisp past me with the intensity of a tornado.

I am left with only few salient memories of the past. I didn’t take the advice to grasp onto the little memories that have marked my high school experience that I would one day be reminiscent of. Yet, I don’t regret how I chose to carry through the years. I went to all the sporting events, I painted myself in spirit for my school, I met new teachers each year, I experienced new things, I made new friends, I made classic high school mistakes.

I regret not taking the time to enjoy the little things high school would bring to me, but that doesn’t mean I regret all of the things I did take time for. I’m not fearful of the limited time left because I didn’t live each year the way I wanted to; I’m shaken because I simply want more time.

The time flew past me, yet it also stuck with me. Time has been constantly adding pieces to the overall complex puzzle that I am, that I am becoming. I am not the same person I was freshman year, but I am not completely different; I grew, but I didn’t change. The past three years have sharpened the edges to my sculpture, more than many of the years in my life will have the power to do; all I have is one last year left to add my final childhood editions that makeup who I am.

I know I am more prepared than I realize to take on my final year of high school and move onto the real world; the tornado of time just catches me in its winds every so often as I realize how little time I have left and how much time I have already encountered.