As someone who's lived in the same area for 90% of her life, seeing the people that you think of when you think of 'home' is one crazy weird feeling. It's second semester, and seeing all the people you love pack up their bags and get ready to embark on a new adventure is disconcerting. But what do you do?
Honestly, I don't know either, and this is just one big rant pushed out of my head and on to this website.
I think that I'm proud, in a sense. Seeing people figure out what to do, follow their passions, and push themselves. I see my friends turning their interests and activities into passions and careers, and it brings me hope to what I could do with what I love. Seeing my friends get into the colleges that they've been wanting to go to since they started school, and cry tears of joy over their dreams coming true.
But I know that in a town like where I grew up, there will always be the kids that never change, that bring their party selves to college and to dead end jobs, and will always be the ones to run back to their parents for support. And I guess that's just the way things are sometimes. To each their own.
And more than the people that don't want to leave our little bubble, I'm sorry for those that can't. I'm sorry for those that are bound by responsibilities or limits or regrets that keep them from truly figuring out what they want to do. I'm sorry for the overdoses, the suicides, and the ones who just gave up and were swept away by expectations. Those people deserved and deserve better, and our town ran them down until they couldn't get up.
But honestly, I'm sad that the identity of my town is being shattered. Because as much as I complain and bicker about the fake girls and the ragers that get shut down by the cops, I will always come back to it because it's home. This depressing, stressful, pressuring, drug-addicted town is what I call home.
And the coolest thing, in some depressing sense, is that we will be those kids next year. We will be those kids squeezing everything we can out of our last four months with the kids we grew up with, and exploring the bits and pieces of our tiny town before we grow too big for it.
We may not be growing up in a perfect town, but who is?
I love Sammamish for all its nooks and crannies, its loners and superstars, the ones who will go on to make history and the ones that will collapse into themselves. These people are the soul of our town, more than just the plateau moms that tote their Louis Vuitton bags and three kids around in their Cadillac Escalades.
And before I part ways with the town who made me who I am, I want to talk about what exactly it's taught me.
It's taught me to name drop. To take advantage of people at every opportunity whether they like it or not, no matter how bad that sounds. It's taught me to pretend I know everyone and everything that's going on, even if I'm shaking in fear. It's taught me that some people will always be on top of you no matter what, and you just have to live with it.
Toxic or not, you decide.
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