I’m sitting here on this aggressively bumpy bus ride on the way to the Livingston football game (perhaps one of the last games of my high school career) and I notice a little red button opposite me labeled “reset button”. Its purpose is unknown to us mere band students, but in my sentimental state I can’t help but wish that I had my own little reset button to fix everything stupid I’ve done in my life. And not even the obvious stupid stuff but all the little stuff too. I really should have been nicer to my mom this week. I really should have submitted that college app earlier. I really should have studied a little harder for that test. The list goes on and on.
Obviously, it’s not too healthy to dwell on the things I can’t change now so that leaves me wondering why the hell everything I do bothers me so much. Through introspection I’ve kind of figured that it lies in the fact that I really don’t know where I’ll be or who I’ll be next year. It’s a problem for all of us seniors: everything as we know it–this somewhat comfortable life–will be obliterated and we really don’t know whether that’ll be for the better yet. It’s scary, yes, but how does that tie into the reset button?
There’s this thought within many of our minds convincing us that maybe if we would have been a little better at school, a little kinder to everybody, a little less complacent with ourselves then we wouldn’t be in this unnerving situation, waiting for our future to aggregate instead of being confident in our ability to find success. But for most of us, we really did do the best we could, or the best we thought we could at least.
I studied those hundreds of hours; I made myself sick worrying about my perfectly fine grades; I advocated for those silenced by bullying; I kept it together in front of those miserable patients on the verge of death while doing rounds with Dr. Khan at the hospital on the weekends; I tried my best to help the lady with Alzheimer’s when she thought she killed her dead mother; I did everything I could to prove myself as a strong, determined, and independent person. It just doesn’t feel like enough when I don’t know for certain whether it really will be later on.
It seems silly, I know, but I guess that’s adolescence. Or maybe it’s just me. It’s hard to tell sometimes when everybody else looks so well put together. All I can do is keep trucking on, hoping that I won’t even want that little red reset button a little further down this convoluted road of life.
*sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes–this bus is too damn bumpy.