Today, I got a sticky note from my old math teacher telling me that I’m still stuck living my high school life and that I should move forward and let go if I wanted to get better. I was smiling when I read it because he was standing there, but it hurt because it was too true.
I didn’t really want to leave high school, or at least the memory of it. You could get away with a lot more shit in high school—excuses were fine and being bad at something didn’t mean the end of the universe. But in college, where your success in life is dependent on how good a record you have, everything just feels so on the edge. And sir, if you ever get to read this, I want you to know that even if it doesn’t seem like it, my whispered apologies are sincere, and I appreciate it when you make an effort to do the favors I ask of you even when I’ve never really mouthed out the words, “Thank You.”