Now that I have the ability of finally wearing a senior crown, I am overwhelmed and overjoyed that I am growing out of high school.  Photo Credit: Summer Thomad

Now that I have the ability of finally wearing a senior crown, I am overwhelmed and overjoyed that I am growing out of  high school.
Photo Credit: Summer Thomad

Oh, senior year, you are such a joy in my life. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. You are, quite frankly, the sunshine of my life.

Well, not really. As a matter of fact, senior year has been pretty tough so far. There are the classes, that naturally pester students to finish homework, keep up with assignments, and commit to participation. Along with that, there is college, as well. And trust everyone when they say that college is a different ballgame. Applications, essays, scholarships, headaches, frustration, and more essays.

Preparing for college is a paradoxical act of surviving–one of “it is not that hard” to “please try to obtain a perfect SAT score.” Some teachers make it seem as if it is very easy to achieve dreams, whereas others tend to disagree. Senior year makes it seem as if perfection is a common act, not a close-to-impossible struggle. Quite frankly, it seems as if suffocation and senior year are synonymous.

In my earlier high school years, seniors were a regal species: ones of mere “do not touch me.” And consequently, seniors are made to be put on the high school pedestal. We wear crowns. We cheer in the loudest voices at assemblies. We are the alleged pack leaders of the school. 

[vision_pullquote style=”1″ align=””] Preparing for college is a paradoxical act of surviving. [/vision_pullquote]

Now that I am a senior, I am not seeing the pedestal on which seniors used to exist. The seniors around me are just my peers. Sure, we have experienced a large amount of change, whether they are changes in hair color, or changes in wardrobe choices. We have undoubtedly changed, but we are still the same individuals.

Though it is true that I feel myself getting grey hairs and sinking deeper into a pile of structured requirements, I am experiencing a large amount of drive coming from my peers. All of a sudden, the class clown is applying to Stanford. The most unlikely people are stepping out of their shells in order to write notable essays about experiences and the craziest endeavors they have encountered.

I am still dumbfounded that I am a senior. It seems as if just last week I was reading (and not enjoying) The Once and Future King. It seems as if just yesterday I was looking up the definition of “college” and becoming speechless at extraordinary tuitions.

Now, I have a few months of my childhood remaining and no idea, still, what I would like to achieve in my life. It is difficult to look at the big picture when I am unclear as to what the small picture even is. Do I want to be a journalist? Do I want to be an author? Do I want to be a teacher? These are all questions I vicariously ask myself until my mind feels as if it is beat to a pulp.

The real question is: How?