cynskywalker

colby

The day all highschooler’s look forward to all of the torturous four years, is finally here, and in the midst of it all, I feel oddly empty. Times like this are usually filled with jittery nerves for the future, or even bittersweet endings of past endeavors. But i know what’s next, it’s the fate of every young adult, college, and then, a 9 to 5 job for the rest of our lives, but do I really? High school feels like a major chapter in one’s life, especially being so young, but it feels so lackluster, and it sets a deep pit in my stomach, deeper than the feeling of my converses sinking into the marble floors as names are called. It nearly feels like we’re lambs for slaughter, all of us, one by one in a row.

I keep hoping the line will get longer, eventually so it won’t have to be my turn, and I won’t have to face the fact that I wasted those four years, completely bullshitted it. But really, is the measure of time even accurate in this circumstance? They feel so long, but come up so short….it almost feels like all of those sleepless nights about tests and state exams all went into the shitter, and I’m being handed a paper and shoved off into the great wide beyond. That big, scary beyond, it’s the uncertainty that gets you, the feeling of failure, a deep dark pit of what if’s.

But it’s what every teenager faces….right? You don’t think hardly of it, until it happens to you. I think that’s called the bystander affect…or is it procrastinating, I’m not sure. I force myself to put on a brave face, I mean this is my future, right? But future’s are built on the past and present, and mine feels strangely empty. Twelve years of growing up with these people, the memories made, all seem so distant and cold. In the face of the future the past stands cowardice in comparison. It’s such an imposition to even think of how I got here. Life isn’t a race, but from cradle to grave, where do I stand? I’m not quite sure, but 18 feels like being in a volcano and catching the flu; ridiculous and counter-intuitive in every way possible.

Blur isn’t the right word to describe how fast this year has gone, indistinct I would call it, only a few stark moments peek out in the passage of time. Are those the most worthwhile? Can I even call them memories…or snapshots. It’s daunting, in any way of recognition, to even acknowledge time has passed is to accept where you are now, and for the sake of it, I’m ignoring that reality. So I close my eyes and try my best to block out my what I know is there, and picture what no longer is.

3 weeks ago

I close my locker as the busy hallway is flooded with the buzz for summer and teenage spirit, looking around at all the blue and white signs, our school colors never looked so scary before. But seeing them now feels like warning signals, like the calm before the storm, even with all the noise it’s still an eerie silence. Like I’m somehow not apart of everything that was going on around me. It was a feeling I was used to, but it never got any easier to accept. These last few weeks have even sparked excitement even in someone like me, who was pessimistic in the face of all of the usual grandeur.

And somehow, as I’m led to believe, this part of our life is supposed to be the height of the roller-coaster, the adrenaline before the drop. Everything, and I mean everything is supposed to change from here. You get 12 years of bland continuum and you’re cut off from the system, feels sort of cynical right? You’d think. But they frame it as a journey into adulthood, gaining independence and freedom in this great wide world. But I’m not sure most of us think of it that way, half of us are just excited to get out of here, naturally, I’m with that half.

Friends move on, high school relationships that were doomed to fail fall apart, and we’re just supposed to move on to college, the next great big thing in a young adult’s life. But I wasn’t ever really focused on that part, I was always focused on the now, and it seems like the ‘now’ has shifted to the ‘then’ without me noticing. And it almost feels like the great dream promised has failed again without much fuss. Out of all the feeling’s I should and could be feeling, I feel disillusioned from this life. And not many may understand the strange brand of melancholy I often subscribe to, but I’m a lifetime customer.

Teenage years are framed as your best, rebellious, careless, the great wave of seemingly-infinite greatness before the crash of adulthood. But here I am, in the dwindling hours of adolescence, slowing aging out of the age unconditional forgiveness and growing into the “know better” years. And I can’t say that I’ve ever wanted to rebel, but I’m simply curious what brand of epic I’ve missed out on tasting, and if it was any good. After all, you never really know what you have, until it’s gone.

So, in the face of streamers, confetti and reckless consumption I feel deceived and cheated out on what was supposed to be an epic senior year. And admitting defeat isn’t easy, but boy, I sure am happy to say it. It feels like a breath of fresh air from the constant stuck-up smog I’ve been breathing. Kids at Serenity High school like to live in pretend fairy tale land, and not to sound like the wicked witch of Kansas, but not many of us actually liked high school. I know, big let down. But that’s what the future is for, always striving for something better.

I can’t help but feel a relief putting a sundown on this chapter of our lives despite feeling the bone-crush of too-high expectations. Finally admitting that it sucked feels somehow freeing, and not trying to chase a constant high, that can be exhausting. Before I can evade the preppy cheerleaders and the snobby jocks a certain pop of blonde hair floats into my view. Because of course it does, like everything else does here, without rhyme or reason, but I welcome it nonetheless.

“Ah, the ever calm and collected Colby Brock, spotted in the wild, with a resent for the system charged enough to try out for Paramore.” Willow quipped, a cheeky smile on her face as she wraps a sympathetic arm around my shoulder as we walk out of the doors, craving out from this nostalgia-bating afternoon.

“I’m not that brooding, besides you know I can’t sing.” I tease back, knowing I’m completely not for-serious.

“We’re theater kids Colby, we can all sing, you’d just glitch out at the sight of Hayley Williams.” She snickers as a tatted, hairier arm wraps around my other side. Ah, the friend ambush.

“Don’t listen to her Colby, we know you’d be a breakout. Besides he’s right Willow, Serenity high is anything but a fucking kumbaya fest, this place is social suicide.” Carter says, ever-playing the devil on my shoulder, of course.

“Big talk for a guy who’s face is is bordering on a walking advertisement for a bulletproof vest brand.” I tease, pulling at his septum as he yelps and tilts his head away.

“You’re gonna need it when those social vampires feast on ya, then you’ll be wishing you had one.” Carter jests

“You know it. Cool kids are the fuckin’ worst sometimes, I don’t hate them, but do they really have to rule over everything? Kinda ruins the whole teenage dream aspect for the rest of us.” I roll my eyes as we finally breach daylight, the school parking lot, and even then, I’m still plagued by the permeating mood of the general school property. But, at least we’re getting closer now.

“There is no teenage dream, young one.” Carter tuts in a patronizing tone. “Learn that quick, and you’ll survive the last bitter end of this hell trip.” He says as he pats my back, to which I clearly dodge. The caravan comes into view, and that was one thing about us, me, Willow, Carter and Sam rode in a group, wherever we went, it was one way to escape the vulturous talons of high school, so far at least. “Hey come on, don’t get all hopeless on me.” I sighed as I opened the sliding door, Willow sneaks between the space between myself and the car (somehow) and piles in, I after her, and Carter after me.

“How the hell do you always get here first?” Willow asked, buckling in and kicking Carter’s backpack from underneath her feet, an annoying thing he always did. The car was already running when we got there, the seats warm with the almost-summer sun out in full afternoon beam. “For one, I don’t stand there sulking like I’m in a movie and, while everyone is distracted by the popular brigade, I make my hasty escape.” Sam winks as he begins to maneuver through the ever-complicated Serenity High school parking lot. Ugh, that’s what I hated about this school, everything and everyone constantly lingered, like a bad smoke session. Or, inevitably when Carter borrowed the van, which everyone grimaced at smell afterwards.

I always wondered what the hell he did with it to make it smell like that, on second thought, I don’t wanna know.

Relentlessly of course, Sam beeped the horn like it was going out of style, parting the crowd of rowdy students like a plane crash through a field of grass; uncoordinated and with some major casualties. “Jeez… slow down, killer you’re gonna mow down a few of our precious classmates. What’s the rush my swing in cadence, my dude?” Carter says, a lazy smirk on his face “Don’t throw your script-print faux dictionary words at me. I’m driving.” Rule #2 don’t bother Sam while behind the wheel. Rule #1 was that this place blows, that was obvious.

“These kids are pissing me off, and there’s always practically a mile down the block to get out of here, how the hell do these people have licenses?” Sam scowled

As usual, a gaggle of popular girls and boys crossed in front of the car like a very, very large family of of annoying ducks. “Ah, the root of the problem, as always. Why would it be anyone else?” Sam groaned as he beeped the horn as if that would make them move any faster. “Way to lay it on thick.” Carter snickered. If anything, it felt like they moved slower. But at the same time, before you could blink, they would pass and we were moving. That's the thing with time, there's always too much and never enough all at once. The world is weird, very weird, but I intend to find out how weird.

Or…..maybe that's a Serenity High school thing, with the power struggle between academic prowess and social hierarchy being wildly off kilter. That's the way it'd always been, and I hated it. The popular ruled the world of the hallways and we were left to serenade the silences of the corners and the shadows. Truthfully, my disdain for cool kids didn't run as deep as I thought it did, it was the assumption that things were set in stone and everybody else just had to deal with it until we graduated. Well I for one was sick of it. I felt like I was trapped in a bad, bad Hollywood movie, one casting me as the loser boy, okay so maybe that was accurate…

When I think back on how long things have been the way they are, I can hardly distinguish the watercolor blend between where it begun and how it ends. Cool kids and the nerds had been at odds ever since freshman year. They went where we belonged and us…anywhere else to avoid the cannon fodder. We were like natural enemies, it was impossible for it not to happen. But that didn't stop me from questioning it, that was me alright, the cog in the machine, the rest of us would go down with the fight. But I’d struggle against metaphorical current…..wondering why, ever being the odd one out.

What makes the cool kids so cool? Why does everyone listen to them? And why do I feel crazy for wondering? Whatever the answer is, I can’t wait for it all to be over, it’s the beginning to the end of their tyrant reign, and I couldn’t be more excited. Most great kingdom fall with a great era before the reckoning and eventually, the revolt. But this kingdom, of elitist pipe-dream’s and social macabre closes its doors to the sounds of cheers, Friday night football games & shut-in clique culture. People expect things in life to end with a great realization, there isn’t quite one for this chapter.

1 week ago

Ah prom, the ever escapist fantasy. An easy, flighty distraction from things in this plain-faced old town from changing. I swear, the skies overcast on Serenity High school prom night are even predicting the downfall for tonight. Cloudy with a chance of boring, anyone? But, I try my best to be hopeful about it (lest Willow skin my hide) And in that attempt, it fills me with a strange empty feeling. With most people I’ve known here will fade into the background of this town, Legends Creek, huh? What’s the point of being legendary if you’re not a legend, oh right. Everyone would try to be someone in this life, and that absolutely can’t happen.

“This is it.” Willow says, spinning around watching the scenery come into view. Willow was always impartial to the whole cool kids thing, then again she was always a little hippie. We walk in and get seated at our table. They’re playing some sort of rap music as I sit next to Carter, and I already have a bad feeling settling into my stomach. “Don’t look so picturesque yet pet.” Carter coos “The regime hasn’t arrived. Lest they spare the peasants some dopamine?” He says, teasing Willow, but she isn’t having it tonight. Everyone knows prom is either a disaster or a teen hormonal fantasy on steroids, at least in the movies. “Oh shove it up your ass, we’re here to have fun, who gives a damn about those kids?” Willow says “We'll never see most of them again anyway, but you'll see me, Colby, and Sam. That's something that'll never change.”

“Spare me the sap, we're here to look at hot people and leave.” Carter deadpans to Willow's annoyance “Or get blackout drunk.” Sam teases as Carter echos his statement and pulls out a flask. “It's a wonder they don't frisk us because of you.” Willow whispers as she hits Carter's side closest to her. He howls. I roll my eyes at their antics, as much as a peace keeper Willow could be, she's right, we'd never change, and that sentiment simultaneously bothered me deeply and sent a warm smile to my face. I didn't know which one compelled me stronger, but I'd worry about that later.

I tried to look at the pros, but all I could see was teenagers pouring in at rapid speed, there was a lot of sparkles, long dresses and 3-piece suits. Not much, not much at all. It was criminal how fast I could pick out each clique from a crowd, for sure. That was the thing about our school, everyone belonged somewhere, even if you didn't think it, inside every clique was a micro-clique. Human beings often put themselves in groups without noticing, and while I'm not one to put people into boxes, it seemed like an odd pattern.

Today

By the power of disillusioned thoughts and an untamed imagination I managed to float my way through the ceremony. Thinking about all of those memories becoming distant and fogged-filled me with dread and left me without reason. It was almost as if the grandfather clock of time had struck its last toll on the thought entirely, forcing the few of us that clung on to the aftermath to march on in the ever-beating track of time.

Only I, being here today, diploma in hand, somewhere distant I was still a kid in those hallways. Stuck in the place between yearning for change and clinging to familiarity. Neither stuck just right, always slightly off, that uncanny valley of a feeling haunted me all the way home, the cheers of celebration were distant. I was happy to finally get away from Serenity High school but also undeniably facing the future like an unkind stranger. Time willed me to go on, so I sighed and succumbed to the feeling of accomplishment.

I finally reached the promise lands (my bedroom) and flopped onto the bed, throwing my cap and diploma to the side. Frustrated and relieved all at once.

Here lies the teenage dream, rest in pathetic achievements. Goodbye high school, hello college. I can feel the post mortem, the graveyard for all teenage unrestraint, reeling it in. The process of crushing and capturing to form something new. But I believe destruction can birth new untapped freedoms, which is why I’m happy to sledgehammer my perfect picture view of high school.

If only I knew how, like all teenage things, it sticks to me like the childish wonder of my younger years and the flurry-hearted melancholy of my older years. Summer was something like that, at least this summer, I hoped. A sweet reverie before the bone crush, a deliciously indulgent poetic justice.

At least I had that to comfort me, the chaos of summer was almost guaranteed, writing on the wall for any good teenage introspect. There was still the sickening sweet summer to coax my feelings of unwell before the eventual fresh start. That's what I think summers are for, the waiting period, the time in-between to trick you, so things aren't so unfamiliar as they seem. Whatever the reason, I welcomed the time to get away from it all, to disassociate from the less than savory events of my final weeks of splendor. Now I'll spend summer wondering if I've wasted my good years, or if they're meant to come. I had a strange feeling it was neither and also both, somehow. And I’m nothing if not consistent in my penchant desire for drawers of journals upon theories and explanations.

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