endings
I haven't written anything for this blog in a long time. Apart from procrastinating on everything, moving my website to a new domain, and updating all the domains I have ownership over, I have no excuse. Morale has been low in recent months, which has caused me to reflect on the past.
I want to write a series of entries explaining the importance of each of my Instagram posts. I had intended to put these explanations in the comments or under the postings. I ultimately decided that letting the images speak for themselves was the best method. I believed that putting these images and anecdotes together in a distinct format would help the storytelling more than the limited scope of a social media post.
The photograph seen above is of my graduation cap. I can speak only a little of graduation as it was mostly sitting and standing around. I arrived somewhat late and retrieved my name card. I was only a few feet away from the doors leading to the field where the graduates were to meet, but a Pepsi vending machine caught my eye. Could it be that this machine carried Mountain Dew Kickstart? Yes, and it surprisingly was stocked.
I then recalled that the first purchase I made with my hard-earned money was a Kickstart in the school cafeteria. While it was refreshing, I felt a pang of tremendous guilt afterward. I had broken a promise. I promised myself that the first purchase I would make with my hard-earned money would be something for the person I was seeing at the time. It was simple, just don't be selfish, but I gave in, and then it was too late. I still think about this to this day, and I still feel deep regret.
I started working fast food to try and salvage a relationship that was, depending on whom you asked, on the rocks or already on its way out. I won't get too much into the details as I tried my best to forget as much as I could, and it would be disrespectful to discuss something of that nature as I would like to live and let live. I promised myself that the first thing I would purchase would be something big for this person. I had no real reason to work as I never really needed or wanted money. This waning relationship was at the forefront of my mind, and I felt that I couldn't just do nothing and watch it die. But needless to say, it eventually died.
After that November morning, I started grieving, although I didn't recognize it. How dramatic, I know, but it was as if someone I knew was gone. I had no prior experience with something like this, and one way I coped was by drinking Mountain Dew Kickstart. I drank an obscene amount of it and even became known for it. I eventally shook it off when I decided to pick up the pieces and put my life back together, which I started by changing my hair, clothes, and face. But that's a story for another time.
Back to graduation, I stood there looking at the vending machine and remembered everything that single drink represented. I knew what I had to do, and I bought one. I cracked it open and took in the aroma and the sweet flavor. I then walked through the doors toward the field and met up with some people. I had discussions with people about the past four years of our lives and the day ahead.
While I had a standard white cap and gown (denoting summa cum laude) and a pair of silver ropes (meaning silver in the seal of biliteracy, I ended up tieing one into a noose in reference to my bio in the school news website), I also had a paper clip on my cap that was given to me on the last day of school by the person I liked at the time. I gave this person the most significantly meaningful pin I wore on my school lanyard during the final, and probably most unconventional, meeting of the club we were both in. This person then tried to find anything to give back to return the gesture. Since we were in the middle of a field, a paperclip was realistically the best choice. I'll stop that story there as I plan to write extensively about the magic of the final day of high school.
I eventually finished the Kickstart and threw the empty can on the ground. It was over. I could move on. It was going to be ok.
It was hard moving on from the past few years of my life. All the pain I had and the pain I caused others. It was undoubtedly tremendous. I distracted myself from the brutal realities of a pandemic and post-pandemic world with television, especially after I broke down in late July 2020, which left me essentially brain-dead. I had become fond of a program that was airing that summer, as it usually aired before my then-favorite program. I remember almost being late to catch the bus for the seniors' Six Flags trip to watch the finale. The last line in the series finale is, "Change can be difficult, but it's how we grow. It can be the hardest thing to realize you can't hold on to something forever. Sometimes, you have to let it go. But of the things you let go, you'd be surprised what makes its way back to you." Those words resonated with me.
I had been contemplating what to put on my graduation cap for a while but eventually landed on the quote as graduation was also an end of an era. Although, it didn't mean that everything had to end. There was a time when I was thinking of quoting my then-favorite program. Towards the end of the second episode of the first season, someone says, "If we all waited for a prophecy to make us special, we'd die waiting. And that's why you need to choose yourself."
Both quotes mean two separate things to me. The second would have applied to my hope of going to college to pursue my dreams, eventually becoming someone who isn't held back by my family or peers. The first is a tad less selfish and is applied to represent the struggles I had faced in a post-pandemic world where I had a hard time catching up to my peers due to the changes that occurred in almost two years of isolation, and the difficulty I had to face of letting go of people after a soured relationship and the realities of graduation while hoping that I would eventually muster up the courage to tell the person I liked at the time how I felt.
What the cap represented to me was finally being able to mark an end to 6 long years and begin a new chapter. It was hope. It was freedom. It was everything that I ever wanted.