“How My Life Became the Teen Movie I Didn’t Realize I Wanted It To Be”
Wow. This is it. This is my last issue of the Eagle Era, this moment is my last layout night, and these are the last words I will ever say in the paper.
Four years ago, if you had told me I was going to platonically hold hands with the girl I had the biggest crush on, become editor of the Eagle Era, get my chance on stage, and provide movement for a man-eating plant; I would have said “Wait, platonically, or platonically.” And that was just in my senior year.
All I did was lose 10 pounds, sacrifice my dignity and personality, sell my soul to the devil, and get plastic surgery. I’m kidding. I’m not really sure how I did it, aside from not taking myself and my life too seriously. Looking back, it probably wasn’t the best thing to stay up all night scrolling my Tumblr dashboard instead of doing my Chemistry homework, and there were probably tests I should’ve and could’ve studied for. Articles for the paper that Mrs. Johnson and my former editors would have appreciated me writing.
But I wouldn’t change my classes or my choices. I wouldn’t change my friends, or the people whom I no longer talk with. I wouldn’t avoid the heartbreaks or hide from the stress. And I definitely wouldn’t change taking Journalism my freshman year. There is just too much I learned.
In my 3 years I’ve read closing commentaries, it’s usually the same format. “Goodbye, see ya, wouldn’t wanna be ya.” Advice. So I guess this where my advice goes.
Freshmen, calm down. You’ve only survived one year. It gets worse. But it also gets kind of fun. Sophomores, you’re are about to enter hell. Junior year is literally the worst. Usually people say they hate freshmen, and that sophomores are even worse. The only reason we don’t say anything about juniors is because they’re too tired to be annoying.
Juniors, you’ve got one year left. I was in your place not too long ago, and let me tell you, start applications as soon as you can. Do not put it off. But have some fun―you’re only in high school once. Unless your life is like some kind of a bad teen movie and you get turned 17 all over again. I don’t know what to say there.
Seniors, I cannot wait to see how many of you get fat and pregnant. But even better, I can’t wait to scroll through my Facebook page and be a thousand times jealous of everything you’re doing. Our futures are bright and I have to wear sunglasses just to think about it.
Dearest, darlingest Megumi and Navya. Good luck suckers. Have fun. You guys have so much chemistry together as a team, and you guys can do so much with the Eagle Era. It’s going to be golden.
Lastly, I’d like to thank Ms. Johnson. You’ve known me, and my best friend Joanna, for four years now, and you still haven’t gotten rid of us. Bless you. You have changed my life and helped shape who I am today. I appreciate the four years of support and guidance. You’re like an older sister or a really cool aunt. And when I come back I expect you to force me to look at 200 variations of the same picture of your baby.
High school isn’t a dream, it’s not a fantasy. Sometimes you do hard work, you think you’ve won, and you get disappointed. Sometimes your knight in shining armour is a boy with a beautiful voice. But most of the time, the little moments, the pauses, that’s when you realize that reality is so much better than fiction. And the dream you got, while it might not be the one you wanted, is everything you need.
How many people get to choose their last words? Probably not many. So I’ll choose mine very carefully. Popsicle, bubblegum, whirlygig, toothache.