I am about a month into this summer, and I can confidently say that graduating isn’t as fun as it’s cut out to be. It’s not that I’m not excited for my future or college. All my discontent originates from this dreadful gap between my high school years and my supposed college life.
Most of my high school career, I have been very secluded. I never had many friends, and I never really got into any social environments that I wasn’t required to be in. For a long time, that didn’t feel like an issue because I was poured entirely into a relationship that I thought would last forever. But when that connection fell short and ended dramatically, the fallout felt incredibly isolating. I felt like people saw me as someone I wasn’t.
Due to this, I fell into a severe state of depression and a loop of trying to get back the connection I once held above all else. I isolated myself, distanced myself from what few friendships I had, and spent a miserable summer entirely alone. I promised myself I would do anything to never go down that route again. Senior year turned out to be an upgrade, however. I saw myself being more social and willing to step out of my comfort zone. I stepped so far that I found myself auditioning for the school play, hoping it would be something I became passionate about.
The community that I found in this venture was very inclusive and kind. Some of them were very distant from me, but I found my group of people who wanted to spend time with me, and I enjoyed it. I realized that I wouldn’t have to spend my summer alone again because I had these people to laugh around with. It was a great sense of relief and excitement. When I had my graduation party and people actually showed up to celebrate me, it felt bizarre in the best way possible. And then graduation rolled around, and I realized a problem. Most of that group was not in my same grade level, so I wouldn’t be able to surround myself with them in graduation activities and the ceremony itself. Knowing that I would be as lonely as ever, I attended the graduation events and the senior trips alone, just hoping that the universe wouldn’t seclude me from the rest of the teenagers having a great time.
That is when I met my other group of friends. I should specify that it wasn’t necessarily the group I bonded with. It was one girl who noticed me and, in a way, adopted me into her experience. She was a beautiful and kind soul who had no bad intentions. You could see it in her every expression that she was genuine and had a heart full of love. She looked at me in my own little world and decided to lift my spirits. I spent all my time at these events by her side, and at night I would think of her smile. I found myself forgetting about all my past mistakes and sad moments because as long as she was willing to be in my life, nothing else mattered. But with that, an anxiety came over me. Are they just hanging out with me to be nice? What if I was just a charity case and nobody really wanted me around?
One late night, I asked her about this. She looked at me as if I was a crazy person, and then her face shifted into a warm smile. She softly assured me, “If we didn’t think you were awesome, we wouldn’t have you around.” I had never felt so reassured, and my chest felt warm. I knew she meant that she enjoyed being with me. That somehow I was worthy of her attention. I didn’t feel like I deserved it. She was the sweetest person I had ever met in my life, and somehow I was good enough for her time. Graduation came and went, and then all of a sudden I had all this freedom. One of the first activities I did this summer was go to a movie with her and some friends. It all felt so natural. I realized this is how a normal teenager should feel during their summer.
After the movie, she told me something I did not expect. She had feelings for me. But when hints of romantic feelings entered the dynamic, my anxiety took the steering wheel. The voice in my head kept telling me I wasn’t good enough, which made me incredibly paranoid about letting this new happiness slip away. Because I was terrified of losing her, I panicked. I spoke too intensely, cared too loudly, and moved too fast. In my desperation to hold onto the connection, I accidentally pushed it away, and things quickly faded back into a quiet, awkward distance. But I wouldn’t let this ruin my summer. I still had this other friend group of the theatre kids; surely they’ll hang out with me.
When I tried to lean back into my theatre friends for comfort, I found a different kind of distance. People were suddenly always busy, caught up in their own summer lives, or perhaps just drifting in a different direction. I hung out with the other friend group the other day, including that girl. It didn’t feel good. It felt forced, and I could tell I was no longer even in her thoughts. Once again, I felt like I didn’t belong. It felt as if they were just allowing me to tag along out of politeness.
So that’s where I am now. I had two friend groups that promised to make this summer memorable; now I’m navigating a quiet room. The hardest part to admit is how much of it was driven by my own fear. I stressed so much over trying to guarantee a perfect summer, and avoiding the ghost of my past loneliness, that the pressure ended up heavying the very relationships I wanted to save. That is the side of graduation people don’t warn you about. You have all this excitement about the future, and then it all crashes, leaving you at your computer at midnight. Hopefully college is better.