I am about to begin my junior year of college, but for some reason I still hang on to my high school years. Some people would consider high school the “good old days” and others would consider it a torturous time. The general consensus seems to be that college is the time where you really discover yourself. It’s obvious that I am incredibly happier being at a place I chose for myself, having an internship that I adore, and being surrounded by friends that make me laugh until I cry; so why is it that I can’t seem to let go and stop reliving those high school days that most outsiders would think I adored? Probably because I was living a lie.

For some background knowledge, I was the girl that did everything. Class officer, principal’s student advisory board, National Honor Society, student council school board representative and later president, yearbook editor, trumpeter in the marching band, jazz band, and orchestra, softball player, and dance team captain. I went to leadership conferences, planned school dances, was a leader on numerous church retreats, and I somehow managed to take AP classes. By the end of my senior year, I was named student of the month, an Illinois State Scholar, honored by the United States Army for Academic and Athletic Excellence, won the Kiwanis Leadership Award, the Principal’s Leadership Award, a few scholarships, and the coveted title of Homecoming Queen. Knowing this, most people would think I had it all. It seemed I had it better than most, but anyone who thought that would be incredibly wrong.

High school was one of the most miserable moments of my existence. I was overworked, overstressed, and too busy and exhausted to be around anyone outside of the school day. I suffered from depression and went through the motions. No one was to blame but myself. I said I was going through the torture to prepare me for college, but that was just a cop-out. I did it so that I could feel needed; it was so that I wouldn’t fade away in the background.

My high school years are a blur because I did what I thought others expected me to do. I know that plenty of people resented me for thinking I was somehow better or more important, but those were not the feelings passing through me at all. In fact, I felt like a failure. It seemed everything I did somehow ended up being wrong or not good enough. It’s tough to be a normal high school kid when you’re constantly being told how mature and responsible you are. I was not allowed to screw up, otherwise I faced the disappointment of not living up to their expectations. I hated being their puppet and I detested the person everyone had made me out to be.

After high school was over, what did I have to show for it? In college, no one cares who you USED to be, they care about who you are and who you will become. Starting college was an exciting time where I was supposed to be able to reinvent myself, but without having those crutches and being in charge of every little activity I was involved in, I faded away. I am an extremely outgoing person, but for the first time in my life, someone told me they thought I was shy. "ME?! Are you serious?" But then it dawned on me: when high school came and went, I didn’t have an identity. All that was left of my former self were pictures, awards, certificates, and a little cheap tiara draped over my diploma.

At college, no one had preconceived notions about who I was supposed to be and it was great at first. I could be reckless and impulsive; I could go to parties and stay up all night; and I could be really immature. I was still kidding myself. I went from one extreme to another and neither was allowing me to show my true personality. My past had carved a desire into my being and I had to feel like I belonged somewhere. Because of this, I joined some clubs, did intramurals, and even joined a sorority. This has allowed me to make lasting friendships and memories that I will always hold close to my heart. College is when I learned that with moderation, I could have that balance I so desperately needed.

I don’t want celebrate what I did in high school; that wasn’t the real me. I want to celebrate the person I became once I was able to define for myself the type of friend, daughter, sister, student, and individual I was always destined to become. My past taught me some extremely tough lessons, but I came out a more self-aware person because of it.

I have learned that everyone has a hidden story that you know nothing about. You will never find out what people truly desire until you ASK them. Sometimes even they don’t know yet. Luckily...you have the rest of your life to figure it out.

"Every single ordinary person has an extraordinary story. We all do something that is fascinating, that is brave, that is something we should be proud of. Every day people do things that are not celebrated. That is what we should be writing about." --Cecelia Ahern, One Hundred Names