Friday was my last day of high school ever. After thirteen years of routine, of the same 200 people day after day, after my biological clock had been set for naps, snacks, and work, I felt suddenly my reality being pulled away from me like a carpet under my feet.
It’s not yet hit me that come Monday morning, I will not be walking into the same freezing-cold chorus room filled with my best friends, I will not be giving my boyfriend a peck on the cheek as I have every other morning. Never again will I fervently gulp down my morning coffee while rushing to 8 a.m. calculus with my favorite teacher, or have miniature dance parties at lunch time.
It’s not the big stuff, it’s the small things, the tiny idiosyncratic routines of everyday life that morph and change and leave me feeling vacant. Taking stock of my life, I define myself by my external situations so often, I find that in this moment, I am utterly indefinable except for one word: vacant. I am a blank slate, an empty box.
Now, I am not one of those girls who will forever mourn high school and obsessively pour over every memory as if it were from some other life. I am moving on to bigger and better things: I’m moving three hours away from home to attend a school that feels so right for me, and I’m excited for all the opportunities that lay ahead, but those facts can’t stop this feeling of limbo that hangs around me like a dense fog. I am floating, waiting to graduate, waiting to become something that I no longer am, but could be.
My situation is not unique: thousands of high school seniors feel the same thing as I do. Everyone feels their realities fading away at some point, transforming into something new and sometimes unrecognizable. The question is, what does one do in the suspended moments between one stage of life and the next?
First of all, celebrate all you have done and all you have been through to get to this point. Enjoy the friendships that you have forged, and strengthen new ones. Some people may fade, but for the meantime, they’re your support system, your slice of what was and what is, and they’ll carry you into what will be.
That being said, meet new people. Open yourself up to the possibility of new experiences and new meaningful relationships. Start a new tradition getting breakfast with your best friend, help your mom around the house more, take up a new hobby; this is a time of new growth and development, your actions should reflect that. And who knows? You might learn something new, or create a new tradition that will last into this next phase of life.
Grow up a little. Take responsibility for your actions, mend old wounds, and learn how to be an adult (somewhat). It’s time to man (or woman) up, bite the bullet, and get stuff done. Living on your own will likely be the greatest challenge you’ve yet faced, and you should ready yourself for the transition. That means no loose ends, no regrets, and for goodness sake, learn how to do laundry.
Lastly, come to terms with your own reality. In a few short months, your world will change forever, and for the first time, the people who once were your entire world will seem like a world away. This is your opportunity to redefine yourself, to strengthen your individuality, and mainly, to learn. I don’t mean simple book learning, though that is integral, but rather, learn what makes you you, what is really important to you, and what is not. The time will come soon when the smallest routines of life will be forgotten, and replaced with new ones. Some people will go, others will stay, and your reality will shift, leaving you a new box to unpack, chock full to the brim.
Vacancy, to me, is a bittersweet transition, the precursor to a whole new period of life to enjoy. It’s about learning to hold on, and to let go, growing up and growing out, and to start noticing all the things that make your life yours, even if they may only be temporary.
