Welcome to the dark, drunken world of adolescence, my high school walls yell at me. It's teenage angst syndrome, when every unfortunate incident is amplified and every moment is part of a bigger picture.
After being handed perfection on a silver platter during childhood spent on the swing set in the backyard, the race for A Grade papers, the desire for the label of class genius and the expected satisfaction from holding a fistful of college acceptance letters has given me a new perspective: I've exchanged my rose coloured glasses for stress with a deadline.
I used to think that memories looked life butterflies, and that if we could pluck one out of our heads it would be colourful and delicate and it would flutter about our ears.
I wanted wings on my memories: I wanted each moment that I remembered to be perfect. Now the moments merge into each other and outward appearances take precedence, it's bottled perfection begged, borrowed and artificial.
The dark, drunken world of adolescence isn't quite as exciting as it sounds. It's composed of excess caffeine, mental strain and going to school after an entire night spent writing English papers. But on one such night, as my coffee buzz strove for a higher understanding of Hamlet, I realized what high school really is: the limbo between egocentric obliviousness and the real world. As childhood daydreams dissolve and the realisation that we don't have any artistic talent crumbles our desire to be painters and sculptors, we reach an awareness of the next level. Now independence has consequences and Daddy's credit card is not at our disposal. A glimpse of the adult world with safety net-perfection is attainable but it's tainted with perseverance and he fact that our butterflies aren't always multi-colored. It's preparation for life; the coffee spoons that measure us are as bitter as they are invigorating.
These are the days when we script our dialogue. As children we followed the Hippy Philosophy: go with the flow and time and life will settle around you. Now we're being taught free will and handed choices. Stress isn't the harbinger of high blood pressure; stress is the motivation for life changes. For energy you need food, for endorphins you require exercise, for perfection stress is a necessity.
To appreciate the moments of inner peace, the moments spent chasing after it need to be taken into account. The moments when we thought up the characters and imagined the setting for our life-story. There is method in the madness after all and therein lies a life lesson:
Despite that my butterflies persist. In quiet moments there will be a slight flutter of wings and a smile will erupt. There's a box of butterflies on my dressing table, with rose-coloured glasses and some English papers tucked inside.
There were perfect days before this, when worry was learning how to tie my shoelaces and there will be perfect days after this, when I'll have bills to pay and my deadlines will be stricter.
I'm a high school senior who has discovered perfection: it's a sporadic event, much like finding a quarter on the street or missing the bus in the morning, which you can put in a box and turn into a butterfly at will.
It's the moments you keep with you when you graduate, abandon the safety nets and have an adventure on your own.
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