Last week I turned 19, officially marking the last year of my teens. I expected to have accomplished so many things by now. But the years that were supposed to be the best of my life were dampened by pandemics, declining mental health, and standardized tests.
When the pandemic began two years ago, I went from seeing all of my friends every single day to only seeing the same three family members for months. My final years of high school were meant to be filled with memorable parties and adventures, but that never happened. Having a historically weaker immune system and ongoing health issues, I avoided even the social distanced meetups that my friends would plan, which significantly hurt my social life. Writing college essays and studying for APs that weren’t even going to help with college credits took up the days that were meant to be spent enjoying the end of high school. People I went to school with for almost 12 years would never be seen again, but instead of spending time with them, I was at home.
Part of me feels like I’ve run out of time. I have one year left to wrap up seven years of teen experiences that I haven’t checked off the bucket list yet. But I find it bizarre to assume that as soon as I turn 20, I can’t experience those things anymore. That I’m just going to graduate college and work a corporate job for the next 40 years. These milestones were set for us by a society that didn’t expect the world to become what it is today, and thought that we could somehow accomplish everything we wanted academically while having those classic teenage experiences. Making one a priority supposedly means missing out on the others, but I disagree with that logic. Circumstances may have altered the course of my teen years but that doesn’t mean I can’t get back on track now. The best years of my life are only just beginning.