I have to constantly remind myself that I have not been in high school for a few years now. It astounds me that two years have passed, and I am well into completing a little over half of my college career. Still, every day, I am reminded in some way or another of a particular moment in high school.
The park at the end of my street reminds me freshman year. The year was 2009. My heart was full of hate, for everything. My eyes were full of tears, and my head was heavy with thoughts. That year was pure agony. I held everything in, I kept all the air inside of me, all the words I fought constantly to keep inside of my head, I never popped. My stomach was in deep pain each time I looked in the mirror. Blackouts from headaches became a routine after school. Getting into fights with my sister drove me lock myself in my room, facing hot pink walls that blinded me. Now I see the park, and I think about how aside from the friends I never let give me advice, that park, with all its fresh air and its swings that soared into the sky, far away from the ground, saved me.
Speedway Gas Station reminds me of sophomore year. It was the year I would get my license. I wonder if the woman who signed my approval for the driver's test has been fired yet, because she really needs to be. Well, I drive better now. I had my first boyfriend, it seemed like it was all I ever wanted. I figured out that having a boyfriend was the biggest burden I'd come to bear, even more than school. Alcohol, recreations, the works. When I wanted it, even when I didn't want it, it was there, burning a hole inside of me.
Tanning beds remind me of junior year. And bobbed haircuts. My hair is longer, and I've retreated to keeping my natural curls instead of straightening my hair. Curls are different, I like being different. Tanning beds are all the same. I wanted to be like all the other girls. I wanted the tan, the body, the party life. And I had it, for a few weekends. And then I lost grip, and I thank God I lost that grip.
Senior year was the year I comprehended that there was in fact a way out of hell. And I got out. Senior year I took the park, the gas station, and the tanning beds, and I put them away in my memory. And I moved out of hell.
I like to write; point blank. This is a little piece of me that I get to share with the rest of the world, and hey, you know, maybe you'll appreciate it, maybe it'll do nothing for you. But my writing exists, and that's enough for me.
© 2019 Silvia Iorio. All rights reserved.