High school truly hits like spicy noodles. Less than a bite can make you cry and a whiff is enough to hijack your senses. Some despise the spice, so they miss out on an array of palettes; but some can’t get enough of it, and you chow down more to this indigestion inducing food. The more you tolerate the spice, the more it becomes a delicacy than a disaster. I’m one of these people who strive for “the spice”, and it’s sad, not because of some ulterior motive but because there will come a time where this plate will be cleaned off of its servings—and mine is slowly doing so.
At the outlook of my high school journey, everything was such a culture shock; So many new faces, new challenges, and new roads seemingly more bumpy than before. It was like dining in a new restaurant for the first time and you're probably not even the one paying!
It was precisely like that.
I've got to experience it in absolute awe, with the glistening essence of school reflecting in my cautious eyes. And while I was still at the appetizer, others were already preparing for the main course.
I felt slightly insecure and tense at first. People were answering with certainty left and right, racing for the unmute button in Google Meet. Classmates being the kindest they have ever been, greeting teachers either through the chat box or orally. Absolutely competitive I tell you. But like most students, I was up for the challenge—I strove for the spice”.
Never have I really thought of it how much the song “High School Life” resonate with us students, how we were saplings and are now only beginning to bear fruits as trees, and how the high school journey introduces us to the myriad of turning points we will have to face in the coming years—coming years which are gradually transforming to “now years”.
As graduation beckons eerily closer each year, time feels like it flies by. And you know how the saying goes: time flies when you’re having fun. Boy am I having fun! I have never had this much ecstasy felt with each cramming night, each social interaction, and each momentous feat
I’ve realized how progressive sometimes my growth was, and it's beautiful because we will have our own unique line graphs by the end of our academic journey, like how we react differently to a variety of flavors and dishes. Conceptions like these make me hesitate whether to be glad that my plate full of these opportunities and experiences is running out of these opportunities and experiences.
It worries me how the future is served on a silver-covered platter. Although it looks promising, it's what lies within that makes it important—and if I can't see that, there's no telling if my future is doomed! What about my friends? Will I be as close to them as I was before I would be apart from them for years? What shocking would this meal be? Can I handle another dish of tolerance?
But the more I think about it, the more I am reminded of how my high school journey started: there was worry. Worry about how the noodles might taste, of how I would be able to avail myself of success, and how this edifice might be too insurmountable for my liking. As I reminisce of these moments, the greater I conceive a pattern. At the end of that pattern? It leads to fulfillment too— like spicy noodles cleaned off a plate.