Senior Sunrise

It’s 6:58 a.m., and I’m perched atop the ice-cold bleachers looking over the football field. “The beginning to the end,” they call it. The sky is streaked with cotton-candy blues and pinks; the city across the bay is sparkling and awake. There’s music down below, donuts and coffee, nominations for Homecoming Royalty, reckless dancing 17-year-olds even before 7 in the crisp morning.

Shivering on the blanket I’ve spread across the bleachers, I’m sitting tucked between my two best friends — friends who I’ve felt that I’ve taken for granted at times, both who I’ve known for the entire duration of my life, who I’ve grown up with. They’re laughing, talking, while I’m tuning out.

Yet I’m here smiling with them. Not because of what they’re saying, but because they’re happy.

Heartache certainly has gotten the best of me in this first month of senior year, and I’ve found that it’s easier to pull myself away, to retreat and pity myself than it is to surround myself with these people who love me. I have found that god, oh god, is it difficult to move forwards instead of backwards. To move forward requires acceleration, something I feel like I’ve lost on the way of trying to put someone else’s happiness before my own.

It’s easier to look at unpredictability, or the future, with pessimism. In fact, it’s human. We are capable of unconsciously building walls and teaching ourselves to expect the worst, because we believe it will soften the blow. We’ll claim that we were better prepared, living in fear and dread, than releasing and letting go because all good things must come to an end.

But things are not good if you’re not enjoying them.

I miss the girl I was before this summer — fearless, independent, and not afraid to walk away from the people who disrespected her. But I think she’s learned that it’s okay to let people in, and it is definitely okay to feel hurt when they are the ones who walk away. She’s learned that what’s saved her is words, writing, people she loves, rekindling old friendships, lots of sleep but also early mornings. Letting herself feel.

I’m perched atop the ice-cold bleachers looking over the football field. People I love, shivering resulting in extended hugs, the smell of coffee. “Thank god it’s Friday!” someone groans.

I’m smiling. Because if it’s not okay right now, it will be. The beginning to the end isn’t so bad.