All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
To Remember Is To Forget
I remember the days when I had hopes and dreams, when I wasn’t scared to share those hopes and dreams with everyone. I remember the days when I was too scared to speak because my Wednesday nap at three o’clock had me dreaming of dinosaurs outside my kitchen window. I remember the day I entered highschool, excited and full of fear that I wouldn’t be able to change my reputation into someone “popular.” I remember the day I introduced myself differently, when I shortened my name because of a movie I had seen only days prior. I remember the day when I found out I was terrified to speak for fear of what someone might say about me. I remember the day when I sat in my psychologist's office and was told that I had ADHD inattentive type. I remember the day when I found out that I had social anxiety, and that it explained why I was so scared of conversation. I remember the day when I choked up in front of a class during a presentation because I was terrified they were thinking the wrong things about me. I remember the day when I had to start taking medication for both my ADHD and anxiety. I remember the day when I found out someone had talked bad about me behind my back. I remember the day I realized I couldn’t be that popular girl that everyone liked and whom everyone was friends with. I remember the day when I made best friends with the new girl who didn’t care that everyone looked at her because she was loud. I remember the day I first told someone in my class I liked something that wasn’t “cool” enough and they looked at me funny. I remember the day I didn’t shush my best friend for talking loud but laughed even louder with her, ignoring the looks I got from everyone else. I remember the day I cried about never being able to get a boyfriend because of how unsocial I was. I remember the day I entered my sophomore year and accepted that not everyone would like me and that I would have to get over myself. I remember the day I didn’t think so much about a conversation and I was able to hold one outside of someone in my lunch group. I remember the day when I was first scared to talk and now I look back at that scared little girl and realize how much I’ve grown over the course of three years. I now see why it’s called social anxiety and I still struggle to cope with it. I now see why one of my old friends from grammar school calls me “weird” for liking the things I like. I now see why I’m friends with the people who aren’t “popular” either. I now see why I remember the bad and never the good of my first half of high school. I now remember all the good times I have had and will continue to have for the next two years of highschool. I remember what it was like to be that little girl full of hopes and dreams and I remember why she stopped having those hopes and dreams. I remember the day I was done with being afraid of myself, of what I could do. I remember the day I stopped caring what others thought about me, of what they said, of what they pictured me as. I remember the day I dyed my hair and it gave me an opening to talk with other people. I remember the day I embraced who I was and accepted that I couldn’t be everyone’s best friend or ideal girl. I remember the day I watched my sister cry about what someone said about her in her first year of high school. I also remember the day I told her that she didn’t have to be perfect. I remember the day she smiled and told me she didn’t want to be. I also remember the day I smiled and told her, “Good.”
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.
I've suffered from social anxiety for the longest time and eventually there comes a point where you stop being scared and you get angry at yourself for letting the stupidest of things get to you in the first place.