All week I’ve been feeling pretty miserable and cranky for reasons I won’t go into here. Anyway, today I was feeling a bit sentimental so I dragged out that box. The one full of high school memorabilia. Ten years have now passed since I finished high school, and so many of the memories have faded. But pulling out that box has reminded me so much of the girl I used to be and my life at high school.
Looking through my year 9 diary, I remember how a couple of the boys got cranky at my leaving them off the personal directory. As a result, they decided to deface large chunks of my diary scrawling such information across the pages. There are comments from people I don’t remember, whose faces I can vaguely make out. So much talk about boys, finding the guy of my dreams and so much advice on the practice of safe sex. While I’m sure ground breaking at the time, now merely elicits a smile for fond memories. Or a giggle in the case of Stan’s declaration that he’d never forgive me for not voting for Lion King II – Simba’s pride.
Moving onto the year 10 dairy, the artwork seriously improved, taking up pages with poetry and randomness. Declarations of friends forever made in those young school days. Notes of kindness and and character traits I’d long since forgotten. Cheerful? Me? Are you sure you’ve got the right person? The half a page scrawls that say nothing at all. Although it seems my mother hen traits were prevalent even then, with talk of providing comfort, help and food as needed. Again, most of Stan’s entry makes me laugh. I think he must have finally forgiven me for vetoing Simba’s pride. Then there are the people you just wonder what happened to? Gabriel was such a sweetheart, one of the loveliest guys I’ve ever met. He encouraged me to be better and do more, something I really needed at the time.
I seemed to actually use my diary for it’s intended use in senior, but of course that didn’t stop me from gathering memories. I came across in the box a special book, just for friends. Reading through the entries I feel mixed emotions, for the girl I once was, and the life I led. All of that comes crumbling down when I get to the page by David. My senior crush, the guy I spent so much of my time thinking about / obsessing over. The guy who died 2 years ago in a motorcycle crash. I can’t help feeling sad for a life lost in tragedy. He was way to young to die.
Then I wonder what happened to me? What happened to the girl with the positive attitude, determination, endless optimism and charisma? The one who was kind, helpful and supportive. The girl with the bright future. The girl waiting for the guy that “totally bedazzles her and leaves her speechless… because she talks to much as it is”. Where did she go? Occasionally I see glimpses of her. This year those glimpses have been few and far between. I feel like somewhere along the way I’ve lost her and, in turn a large part of myself. I wonder if it’s even possible to find that girl? Is she still there?
She’s still there. She’s been there all along – you’re just looking at her from the wrong angle.
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