Okay, so maybe I'm overreacting.
But honestly, I had expected today to be as tragic and terrible as my first day of middle school. I expected to know no one, to be all alone, to feel self-conscious and fat and disgusting, and to have a downright terrible time and silently cry myself to sleep at night. Today wasn't even remotely close to that. Sure, I felt self-conscious, but who didn't? After all, we were making our first impressions on our teachers, on fellow classmates, on all the upperclassmen, on everyone. It's a big deal to look nice on the first day of school! I got up early, showered, styled my hair, wore a cute outfit, and I basically plastered a smile on my face the entire day. My cheeks hurt like heck. Everybody better like me. Or else I pulled my cheeks for nothing.
Today was nice. I hung out mainly with my friend Leah, (we have nearly identical schedules), and I just went with it. I was laid back, I was relaxed, I felt comfortable in school. I was happy. I didn't feel anything remotely close to Charlie in "The Perks of Being a Wallflower". I felt like freaking Katniss Everdeen. I joked with my buddy Martin, I messed with my friend Alex, I got a very sweet and kind locker mate, and I even got to catch up with my friend Brooke who I haven't seen in FOREVER. To be perfectly honest, today was fantastic! This has been one of the best first days of school that I've had in a long, long time.
Rewind two years ago to seventh grade, and you would find me weeping. I knew close to no one in any of my classes. I was unbearably shy, talking very sparingly with low volume, always admiring my shoes and the artwork around the classrooms. I didn't have a strong group of friends; I had just broken away from my old group last year. I felt alone. I felt ugly. I couldn't find myself. No one sat with me at lunch. My clearest memory of the first day of seventh grade was of me coming home, talking/crying to my mom, and stuffing my face with chocolate chip cookies that she made me. I was so depressed and sad that day. Even now I still get a small shudder thinking about it.
But I'm a different person now. And these four years are going to be the best I've ever had.
So, first impressions on everyone and everything:
1. I love our student council president Sophia Metcalf, she's sweet and beautiful and such a fantastic person. I already knew her through band.
2. Mr. Gramata (my band teacher) is the same as always, and I can tell that he will be as bipolar as he was in eighth grade.
3. Second period honors English is going to stink. I can feel it.
4. We have to do bucket loads of work on boring topics. Plus, the teacher seems like she can get moody like Gramata.
5. Third period is study hall. And it is fantastic. Martin's there and Sarah's there. Hold on to your horses folks. (If you are an upperclassmen and reading this, I apologize for our rambunctious behavior beforehand).
6. The staircases are in odd places. They're hidden and really hard to find.
7. The paintings all around the school are very helpful. For example, if I see Marilyn Monroe, then my lockers are in the other direction, and French is to the left.
8. Speaking of French, I can't wait.
9. I want to get into French Honor Society. It seems awesome. Plus, we get to go to Quebec!!
10. I. Hate. Geometry.
11. I have no idea when I'm going to eat lunch considering I don't have one.
12. I'm not too crazy about my gym class.
13. I have health with Martin. Awkward....
14. I don't have any classes with Mikaela or Ali or Brooke :(
15. The library is so cool. Plus, I use it as a shortcut.
16. My world history teacher needs to take a handful of chill pills.
17. My gym teacher needs to take a couple anti-depressents.
18. He looks like he'd rather commit suicide then teach freshmen how to play field hockey.
19. A lot of sophomores and juniors wear dresses and wedges.
20. I desperately miss my eighth grade teachers
21. I need a cute bag to carry my books. Stat.
22. And cute gym clothes.
23. And cute running sneakers.
24. And I need to get my bass clarinet fixed.
25. The entire school is like a gigantic figure eight that broke a couple arms off.
I really, really hope that today wasn't a dream. And if it was, I hope tomorrow is nothing but deja vu.