This is the first day of your life (earnestly)

Today was the first day of my life.

At least, according to an upperclassman in my piano class. And she was completely earnest, too. Apparently I will be living it up at my art high school, surrounded by opportunity: the gay men and hairy men and sassy old men, one of which is my eighty year-old piano teacher. I have to admit, for how sassy he is he isn't annoying.

The night before the first day of high school, my sister asked me if I was nervous, and I said no, I was just tired. So I tried to sleep. Eventually I got to sleep around twelve-thirty or so. And in the morning, I was tired, and I trundled off to school late-ish, and got there in time, but not in time to figure out how to open my locker.

As I walked toward the school, I felt kind of sheepish as I saw the older kids; if there's one thing that intimidates me, it's my peer that are older than me. I'm not scared of grown-ups or people my own age, but upperclassmen--like mean, patronizing older siblings. I felt anxious right at that moment, thinking, "How did I make it this far?" I'd always thought I would drop dead or something at the end of eighth grade. Not like in a nihilistic way--I just didn't think beyond it. Even the day before I started high school, I felt it was surreal. How could I go to high school? I'd always been teased by older cousins and siblings for naivety, being younger than them, and lack of life experience.

I wasn't sorely disappointed. But I had had high expectations. I expected people to not be shy, to take to each other, to me, immediately. And they did take to each other. Because they knew each other from school. But I had to rely on the people who didn't know anyone else for company--I tried to mingle with the group, but the truth is, they're shy to me. It wasn't a total waste of a day, I guess. As it happens, good things did happen. I like to think I was friendly enough to make possible future friends. I did develop a rather nasty headache.