And why did he look distant again—hardened and moody? Why had he been so nice earlier, wanting to talk, only to turn nasty now?
“Fuck. I’m going to fail. Shit, shit, shit…” I said, trying to forget Taylor, Thiago, my brother, my best friend, everything. I had a fucking final!
“You’ve still got ten minutes to cram,” Ellie said, trying but failing to encourage me.
“Bye,” I said, running toward class, thinking I could at least look back over the notes. I sat at my desk and read them over, trying to be strategic, telling myself all those letters and numbers were the most important thing in my life.Memorize, memorize, I commanded my brain urgently.
What I wouldn’t give now to go back to that moment, when my only worries were those of a typical teenager: exams, fights with friends, new love and ex-boyfriends, divorced parents…
It’s amazing how we inflate our problems until we let them take over everything in our lives. People always tell us to zoom out and think of all the people who don’t even have enough to eat, and those people are right, dammit. TV and newspapers tell us about all the people with real problems. We hear about them every day. And yet we’re incapable of realizing how lucky we really are.
We don’t get it until we’re the ones faced with tragedy, until we’re robbed of absolutely everything and reality smacks us in the face—the cold, hard reality that we are nothing but a grain of sand. If we make it through the dangers and misfortunes around us, it’s because we’re lucky, that’s all. If you honestly look at your weaknesses and shortcomings, you realize there’s no reason whyyou should still be alive with all the dangers and threats that surround you.
I’d give anything to go back and do things differently.
But what’s the point of looking back when life pushes you forward into the unknown?
