at my root there is boba
I stare at the picture with a faint smile on my face. It was unexpected. All I did was scroll and I stumbled upon a picture that flooded my mind with memories and yearning for home. The sun illuminating the world behind them, Stephanie wears a boba costume as Richard pretends to drink from the straw. I'm not even in the picture, but it brings back every memory from high school. It brings back home. I'm suddenly thinking about each meeting that I ran to, each meeting I missed, each teacher I was yelled at by because I was running in the hall, each time I heard my locker slam behind me as I ran, each time I complained about the blinding sun, each time I slumped against the lockers and sat on the floor in pure exhaustion, each time I cried because I was so stressed I thought my mind was gonna burst, each person that stopped me in the hallways to ask about Key Club, each person that jokingly asked me "How do you feel" only to be attacked by our iconic chant, each test I failed because I stayed up the night before planning TEDx instead of my memorizing another note card, each friend I made and each friend I lost, each time I sat in the MAC hallway with my friends because we found refuge in its air-conditioning, each time I took a risk and tried a new publicity technique... a lot of my firsts were at Whitney.
And I can't deny that I miss it.
I ache when I think about high school. For some it might seem like an inability to move on. It's not. The memories that I made in high school were so precious and so valuable to me, I'm afraid I'll forget them soon. I was recounting my last TEDx conference to Raymond the other day and I found myself blanking on so many memories and that terrified me. One day I will forget all of it and will only recall the feelings they left behind in their wake.
It's not that I can't move on, it's that I'm afraid of doing so. I'm afraid of forgetting such a large source of my happiness for six years. I'm afraid of growing up. I'm afraid of losing my sense of home and happiness. I'm afraid of letting go of my roots and the purity and genuine intentions I clung to in high school. I'm afraid that college will change me without my permission.
So here I sit, frantically documenting every moment so I can keep myself accountable.