Graduation - Reflections

I graduated high school on Sunday.

Things are supposed to feel different but they don't yet. As much as I hated the monotony of school, I always dreaded summer. The days feel empty and hollow. They feel like a container that's been dumped out. Because I guess I've always had certain expectations of days. I've always seen them as holding specific things, as carriers of promises and feelings.

These days do not feel so empty. Maybe I have grown, but I hesitate to say that. Every year, I look back and say I've grown, but if I've matured so much, what did that make me before? I've been thinking about that a lot lately.

The truth is, I have grown. Innumerably. And the summer doesn't seem so scary. I have so many things in my life now, sometimes my weeks are too full. In high school, I thought I could fill my life artificially. Never a free moment because I was so busy bouncing between responsibilities. But they were chocolate-bunny-hollow. These things I have are solid all the way through.

I read a few chapters of a book recently. I mean, I quit social media and everything, so I've been reading a lot, but there was one specific book I was trying to get into. I never managed to fully get on board with it, and ultimately put it down, but the core idea was that happiness comes from a balance between individualism (alone time, core personal beliefs, introspection) and community bonds (relationships with others, shared experiences, and common interests). I don't think I fully subscribe to it, but I've never truly been able to find my personal balance between the two. I have so many relationships in my life now, and I get easily overwhelmed by the constant overarching responsibility of connection. Especially considering that post-graduation, most of those relationships have evolved. Some of my coworkers have different expectations of me now that I'm officially an "adult" (I turned 18 months ago, but being in high school still labeled me as a kid in the general zeitgeist).

While in high school, I formed approximately two close friendships with people my age, and the rest of my friends were teachers and assorted faculty members, so those relationships have changed, too. I have a coffee appointment scheduled with one former teacher and another is accompanying at a protest this week. Next week, I'm attending a barbeque with a group of faculty members and the above mentioned age-appropriate teenage friendships.

I'm excited because for the first time, I have more social events scheduled than I have time for. And probably energy. Most days I am juggling events and rearranging my schedule. It makes me happy in the bittersweet way that anything makes me happy, in that I am enjoying it but waiting for it to end. I spend much more time than I should waiting for things to end. It makes me passive in my own happiness. I am figuring out how to fix this.

I'm healthier now. That's weird to admit. And kind of disappointing. Sometimes I wonder who I could be beyond my illnesses, because they've always been at the helm of myself. I didn't really have to worry who I was because they provided me with all the traits and characteristics I could ever need. That's not to say I don't have personality, or interests, hobbies, passions, ethics. I have a strong sense of self, and am pretty rooted in my identity. But my illnesses were always a part of that identity. I was drowning in them so often that it seemed I would always be that way.

Sometimes I wonder if people think I'm more boring now. I laugh a lot more easily. I say positive things. I feel my pessimism slipping through my fingers like fine silt. But I don't mind it so much.

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Again, the high school thing. It doesn't feel over yet. I guess I am still holding onto the notion I formed when I first entered high school that I would know it's over when all my connections from high school ceased to be. But those connections keep growing. I never bothered to define a new ending point. Then again, most things never end cleanly. There is no line drawn in the sand. Everything in life blurs together. The threads are impossible to separate and pull free.

Graduation was hot. I kept searching the stands for familiar faces but there wasn't many. I didn't care about high school, truly. But it was probably the hardest four years of my life. To me, graduating wasn't a celebration of high school, but of the fact that I survived something I thought I never would. I don't think I can explain this in any meaningful way to anyone. There were people that I wanted to come who didn't. I am not holding it against them. This is growth. My sister came, and that's what mattered most. She is always there when she needs to be, and even when she doesn't.

She takes me places and we get coffee, or browse art supplies, trade poetry and blog ideas, and it feels like a relationship that was always supposed to be a part of my life. She feels like someone who will stay.

That's scary because the last person who was supposed to stay was her. I refrain from ever revealing her name because even though she did unforgivable things, and seems to never regret the things she did that hurt people, I cannot bring myself to put a label about a human being into the world. She's still a kid (technically she's 18, but her immaturity gives me pause). I will always only have the way I knew her at one point in her life. I hope she will grow. And though no one will read my book, I cannot taint a person as bad forever. I cannot brand her with a scarlet letter.

People tell me I am too forgiving of the things she has done. I feel sick when I have to look at her. And I'm sure I am a pushover because after everything, I can't bring myself to hate her.

She will always be the elephant in the room.

• Sunni Usagi-Koi