  “…I loved our lovely talks about ‘issues’. Man we had some heated discussions. Wait until you’re married! j/k! Love, Paige” “…I love our extremist talks and political talks and how our views of music are so different. … Anna D.” “…The discussion about music, religion, vegans, and everything were great… Nicole” Hmm, is anyone sensing a pattern?
Why does everything people write somehow relate to that 1) I talk a lot and 2) I’m crazy…!? ---------------------------- Right, so here I am again. The end of another school year. I think that when you’re in school, your year is from September to June, that’s they way you measure your life. I say “back in 5th grade” instead of using years as placemarkers. Taking that into account, it’s the end of my year.
It’s been so much of everything; thrilling, deplorable, crazy, painful, glorious, content. The bad times seemed bader and the good times seemed better than any other year. Every emotion, every thought, was so intense. I feel so numb sometimes that I forget to actually open my eyes and acknowledge that this is my life . Even when it’s awful, it’s still happening . I’m not in a movie or a book or a song, but I’m real.
I’m tangible and I’m here, no matter how else people may see me. My heartbeat isn’t lying; I’m alive. The soundtrack to my year will be hard to match in any year following. I remember the first Rilo Kiley song I heard, because Kate pestered (oh, but in a nice subtle way) me to download it. ‘Better Son/Daughter’ has this slow, almost whispered, opening. After almost two minuets the song launches into this proclamation--- “You’ll be better, you’ll be smarter, more grown up and a better daughter or son, and a real good friend…” With those 3 minuets, my entire music collection changed.
Dave Matthews was replaced with Ben Kweller and movie soundtracks were replaced with Bright Eyes. I hadn’t had such a thirst for music before. Every song was directed at me, every lyric was uncanny, every album cover was beautiful. Books re-entered my life too. The Perks of Being a Wallflower opened that up for me. The Bell Jar , The Catcher in the Rye , On the Road , Take the Canoli , Naked Lunch , Junky , Second Helpings , A Tree Grows in Brooklyn … and so many others.
God, it was a good year for literature. Not everything this year has been wonderful. I had my own bell jar for a few weeks, Ms. Plath. Honors whirled me into a world of insecurities and Adrienne made me feel like a liar. I lost my faith, slowly but surely. I tried to cling to what I’d been taught.
I prayed and sought guidance. I wanted to believe, but ultimately I couldn’t look upon Jesus with the same wide-eyed adoration I once had. He was just a face carved from stone at the alter. I’ve never known that man. And after years of trying to memorize an ancient book and live by it’s confusing, contradicting words, I stopped giving it power. And at the same time, I was living freely.
Relationships this year grew deep. I tend to feel strangely uncomfortable when I let myself get really close to people, but I learned to get over it. Sometimes it still erks me when Robin can guess what I’m thinking or when Lauren and I speak in unison. But there is a warmth and a depth to these friendships that is rare. So we’re only high school friends, and we’ll be torn apart to the corners of the country in a few years, it doesn’t matter. For the moment, we’re laughing and we’re together.
Affectionately… Anna 
