When I was a kid, all I wanted to do was grow up.
I felt like I was too young for my friends at church, because although I was included in all their games, I knew I wasn’t their equal. I was simply a younger sister to them. I never said it out loud, but I decided that I would do everything I could to fit in with them.
Watching cartoons like “Little Einsteins” turned into watching “Shake It Up” or other old Disney Channel shows. Instead of talking about reading logs and the art projects I would make at school, I talked about “drama,” which I partially exaggerated for entertainment, and a topic that I was much too young to be speaking on: boys.
Looking back, I can’t help but laugh because I may have been told I was “mature” for my age, but we were all just kids back then. We were kids who did kid things, like playing camp, or family, or my personal favorite — superheroes.
I don’t know when playing with Barbies and My Little Ponies turned into playing with makeup in Sephora. But now that I’m the age I used to pretend my Barbies were, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t scared.
The scariest part of senior year may be over — the inevitable procrastination of college applications – but what I’m most scared of is what comes after — the uncertainty. The familiarity of high school will soon be an afterthought. I know everyone is so excited to leave — and really, I am too. However, saying goodbye is something I have never been good at.
Everyone told me that high school would fly by. The last couple of weeks between breaks might feel long, but these past four years have gone by faster than I would’ve imagined.
From time to time, I look back on how much simpler freshman year was — when I wasn’t worried about AP classes or working.
Sometimes I wish to return to those days, but throughout my time here, I’ve grown so much, met so many people, and most of all, I’ve learned more about myself than I did at the beginning of high school.
So what am I saying goodbye to? I guess it feels like the end of my childhood to me. It feels like I have to start all over again. That’s the bittersweet part of growing up. Maybe that’s why people began calling 2026 the new 2016Â or why the infamous “Disney adults” exist. We are all trying to go back to a time when we could just be kids.
Saying goodbye got so hard that I used to purposely skip the endings of shows so it never ended for me. I would wait months to watch the last episodes or read the last book of a series because once I finish it, it’s over.
But perhaps there is beauty to the way things end. The way an end doesn’t mean you forget the journey, but carry it forward and allow room for something new — something better.
In the many of my “lasts” this year — first days, football games, assemblies — bittersweet as it may be, memories of laughing with my friends after school events at whatever place we choose to eat or enjoying the ability to hang out with ease are moments I want to hold on to.
I believe that who I am today is an accumulation of all these little moments that I’ve held onto. I also believe that who I’m becoming isn’t set in stone yet — I still have more growing to do. I don’t think we should fully let go of our childhood selves, because no matter how much we think we’ve matured, at heart, they’re just waiting to come out.
As the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. While one chapter of my life may be closing, saying goodbye doesn’t mean the end is definite. I can rewatch shows and reread books, just like I can revisit my memories. To me, saying goodbye is more of a “see you later.”
After all, I’m still stalling with my friends at church and talking our ears off so our parents won’t tell us it’s time to leave.
