Dear Hart,

I spent so long waiting for high school to be over that I almost forgot to enjoy my time with you.

We had the rockiest relationship I’d ever had (which is saying a lot), but I don’t think I would trade my experience for the world. I came to Hart expecting to be valedictorian with a commitment to Stanford. I leave knowing I could have done better. In the end, regret makes me a stronger, better person. I now know my limits. I live in a dichotomy, knowing that I could have done more, yet if I pushed myself any harder I would break.

I like to romanticize the past. So many of my memories are almost movie like, which is why I hold them so fondly. I remember my first high school crush and my first high school heartbreak. I remember walking into my first AP class, thinking I’d be on top. And I remember compromising my big dreams for reality— I’m more average than I’d like to admit.

My writing skills and natural intelligence are up to par, and sure, there’s nothing wrong with average, but I also realized I don’t have to live an average life. I wanted to push my intellectual limits and see all I’m capable of with my personal projects. I wanted a challenge and to see that there was more to life than organized schooling. And there is— there’s a whole world of knowledge at my fingertips, and I challenged myself to indulge in all my imagination had to offer.

I think I learned to live at 16 when I abandoned the notion I had to go to Stanford to be happy. Here we entered the troubled teen years: lots of crying, attitude and confusion. I battled with the idea that I’m worth more than a made-up number on the 5.0 scale and won.

But I learned a lot more than academics. I learned that some people aren’t permanent, and it’s okay. I learned to stop reading other people’s minds, because I’m usually wrong. I learned that nothing is ever that deep.

I also learned a lot about myself. I don’t like giving up on people. I’m a little selfish in the way I want everything life has to offer. I’m highly emotional— and it comes with its ups and downs. I’m stronger than I think. I’m not very confrontational, but when I talk, people tend to listen.

Hart, I can’t confidently say I’ll miss you. You’re familiar, but you weren’t the best for me. But I will miss my memories here. From cheering at my first football game to leaving F-31 for the last time, I cherish most of our memories together.

I have a lot of thank-you’s to get out. I want to say thank you to teachers like Mr. Borish for seeing something in me that I couldn’t. Thank you to my best friends for getting me through high school. I truly wouldn’t have made it out alive without them. Thank you to my parents for almost giving up on me. It was a daring wake-up call that I wasn’t pushing myself hard enough to get to where I wanted to be.

And I want to give a special thank you to Mrs. Mohsen. She is, without a doubt, one of the first teachers who could see something in me that I couldn’t. From sophomore year to senior year, after dozens of articles written and two English classes, she never stopped believing in me. She watched me grow and change from 15 to 18 as I went from an incompetent, careless mid-teenager to a more reflective, responsible young adult. I credit my walking across the stage at graduation to Mrs. Mohsen— I don’t know where I would be without her guidance. I hope in reading this, she feels fulfilled in her career, because she changed the way I read, write and enjoy life for the better. It only takes one person to set you on the right path, and she did it for me and I’m sure many others.

So thank you, Hart, for the memories and for turning my friends into best friends. And thank you for reintroducing me to myself. I really needed it. 

Sincerely,

Breeze