They say youth is wasted on the wrong people, and it’s true. Why do we have to be young when we’re still so stupid? Why can’t we get a second chance at youth once we’ve wised up a bit?
Last week, I had the unusual opportunity to experience a slice of high school life again by living vicariously through my younger cousin. My brother and I had taken the time out of our demanding spring break schedules to meet our cousin Samantha one day after school.
It’s like returning to a world that you forgot even exists — this bubble of youthful drama and social one-upmanship that antagonizes everyone in its wake. Samantha came waltzing over to our car, waving nonchalantly and chatting with a friend or two. When she hopped in the backseat, I turned around.
“We’re going to embarrass you so bad in front of all your friends,” I teased.
“Go ahead,” Samantha scoffed, laughing. “I don’t even care anymore.”
What magic words: I don’t care. It’s a phrase I wish I had learned better in high school. The I-don’t-care attitude usually sinks in, as it had for Samantha, around senior year. That’s usually when you finally start to realize you’ll do much greater things in your life than simply attending high school. Now that I’m several years wiser, I know exactly what I wouldn’t have cared about in high school. If only I had known then what I know now.
I wouldn’t have cared if my hair didn’t look just right. I wouldn’t have wasted precious time to painstakingly straighten it or wrestle it into that perfectly sloppy bun. I would have just worn it and maybe brushed it on a good day.
I wouldn’t have cared if my jeans didn’t keep up with the ever-changing fads. I would have just worn whatever I thought was comfortable, meaning I probably would have worn sweatpants every day. And I would have been cool with that.
I wouldn’t have cared that the football team got more respect than the cross country team. I would have just smiled and remembered that no matter how good they were, they could never keep up with us.
I wouldn’t have cared that brown-bag lunches were the thing. I would have just taken a lunch box. I hate warm juice.
I wouldn’t have cared that I was single. In fact, I would have thanked my lucky stars that I was not jumbled into the awkward mess of discombobulated high school dating drama.
I wouldn’t have cared that some kids thought they were better than everyone else. And I wouldn’t have let them dictate styles or fads or how I carried my books. Why try to fit in with people you don’t even like?
Now that I’m graduating college, I wonder what I’ve valued for the past four years that I’ll look back on in a decade and think, “I wish I hadn’t cared.” Hopefully, nothing — the rest of my youth has not been and will not be wasted on the wrong person.
Rachel Hare is a senior French language and literature and journalism major. She can be reached at hare at umdbk dot com.
