High School

I wasn’t cool or smart in high-school, but I knew some of the cool and smart people.  I wasn’t much of an athlete or artist, but I knew a few athletes and artists.  I didn’t party or drink, but I knew people who did.  From what I remember, I was on mostly good terms with mostly everyone most of the time.  I had people to eat lunch with, but never outside of school.  Besides, I had to work.

In an ongoing effort to get rid of things I don’t need, I went through my high-school yearbooks.  The first two years contained nothing interesting.  Junior and Senior years though…there were some entertaining signatures.  Nine girls and two guys professed their love for me.  One guy said he hated me, for balance I suppose.  I received seven sets of contact information, unsolicited.  Six people said I was cool, and a few even thought I was smart.  They were probably blinded by their love; my long curly hair must’ve helped.

If something went horribly wrong and I had to redo high-school, I would be so much better at it.  I wouldn’t waste my time in AP Statistics, and I would invest in friendships instead of letting them languish when they became inconvenient.  It’s been seven years, I don’t miss high-school, and I certainly don’t want to do it again.  The yearbooks just brought up some memories.

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High School