Is High School Really Worse Than Murder?

High school murdered my soul, but I think I can get it back in due time.

I once read a quote that said: "The only thing worse than murder is high school." Now, to a point I believe that. Nothing is worse than starting off high school as an awkward freshman with a broken jaw. Yet, I've learned through the many hours of boring classes and moments of embarrassment that high school really isn't that bad.

When I started my high school career I was an eager 15 year-old with a broken jaw, and an aversion to talking to new people. I was awkward, swollen, and just not happy. Seriously, who would be? I couldn't eat solid food, couldn't talk, couldn't play my saxophone, and just couldn't deal with the situation at all.

As I walked through the halls of my high school, I felt lost, not in a physical sense, but in a metaphorical sense. I didn't really know anyone, and I just wanted to get out of that place. But as the year went on, I learned to love everything about it, even the horrible smell that would come from the cafeteria after the lunch ladies made chicken fajitas.

As finals approached everything changed. The atmosphere was that of an industrial wasteland during an emergency. Nobody wanted to be bothered when they were studying. The concentration was set on high. And those who couldn't concentrate would just buy drugs to help them. Winter finals were okay, no matter what, exams like that just kill. Only upside, open lunch.

Spring was easier than winter, but it was still grueling. When freshman year was over, I had a whole lot of experiences under my belt: mock trial competitions, one act plays, fall musicals, band competitions, and a general sense of knowledge.
When summer entered into full swing, everything was fine. But then I started to worry about my classes. I was horrified about my advanced placement (A.P.) class.

When I finally started my sophomore year, things changed. The classes became harder, and the teachers expected more. I was expecting that, but not to the degree it happened. It was like diving off the high dive in a swimming pool, and missing your dive and doing a belly flop. The courses were hell, and the homework was worse. As the months drug on, I became more intense in my moods.

I'm a serial procrastinator, so nothing got done until the last minute.

I actually cannot really remember anything until about May. That's when the dreaded A.P. European History test was. All the teachers could tell what students were taking that test, those were the ones who were sleep deprived, stressed, and just plain on the verge of a breakdown.

When it was over, everyone realized that it was probably worth it, even though it was complete agony. I thought I had done well, until my results came in.

The summer after sophomore year was amazing. I had an A.P. English reading list the size of my arm and I was finishing up my last year of German Camp at St. John's Prep School. The summer isn't actually quite over yet, but as it comes to a close, I look back and think about all the things I did over the past two and a half years of my life.

I realize that all the hours spent in Perkins just talking over coffee were some of the best times I ever had.

Yet, I seem to be missing something: myself.

Whenever I'm just in school, I feel lonely, even among a crowd of 100. There is a possibilty that when I go back as a junior things could be different. They could be worse, or better. But I can't take those chances. I just want everything to essentially stay the same. But yet, different. I guess this is where the whole 'high school is worse than murder' thing comes into play.

Everyday from September to June I walk the halls constantly being taunted for whatever reason, and just take it. Sometimes it hurts, that's when it feels like murder, but most of the time it's fine.

But I don't feel like a high school-er at all. I'm 17 years old, don't have my drivers license, never had a boyfriend, and never really lived.

I actually now realize that high school is exactly like murder. It murdered the imagination I had as a freshmen and the goals I had then. Now, I'm stuck. I'm stuck re-realizing where I'm coming from, and where I'm going.

High school murdered my soul, but I think I can get it back in due time.


No comments yet, why not leave one of your own?

Leave a Comment or Share Your Story

Please Sign In. Only community members can comment.

SMITH Magazine

SMITH Magazine is a home for storytelling.
We believe everyone has a story, and everyone
should have a place to tell it.
We're the creators and home of the
Six-Word Memoir® project.