If you ask pretty much any of my friends or family members, they will tell you that I have a horrible memory. I would say the same thing. I put my phone somewhere, turn around, and then forget where I put it. More embarrassing, I ask people to retell stories about themselves because I forget, even if they’ve told me about a million times.

Strangely, though, my brain retains seemingly random events from years ago, and I believe my earliest memory is from when I was about 1 year old. I remember what shirt I wore on my first day of high school and I remember with sharp clarity exactly how I felt stepping out of the car, rushing onto campus, having no idea where I was going. Each memory is different for me… some are vague, such as, of course, the one from when I was 1; I can only remember a blurry essence of my surroundings that day, and that’s it. But the moment when I stepped out of the car my first day of my freshman year at McClintock High School; I can play that memory in my head so clearly it’s as if it happened yesterday.

I can remember the first time I rode on a train; my mom, dad, brother, sister, her husband, and my niece and nephew and I took the Polar Express to the Grand Canyon and there was a fake train robbery. And I remember staying in a red caboose cabin. I remember putting a tiara on my poor little brother’s head and making him play “princesses” with me.

I remember meeting some of my best friends on the playground in fifth grade. I remember crying about how hard my math class was going to be– and how hard it was. I remember turning around in my seat to face a kid who had just made an antisemitic remark towards me and seeing the nasty grin on his face. I remember graduating from eighth grade.

I remember freaking out when my counselor asked me as a freshman what I wanted to do in college, and then afterwards… in life. I remember auditioning with a monologue for my first high school play. I remember crying at all the final choir concerts, seeing all my senior friends leave and knowing that would be me someday; but I always thought that day would be in forever, that it would never come.

And now it’s actually getting close. It’s becoming real. This is my last year of high school, my last year of being in McClintock’s choir program, my last year with some of my friends, maybe even my last year living at home. And I just can’t figure out where the time went. I’m only beginning to grasp that I’m a senior in high school, and that the last time I was out on the field for graduation was my last time being on that side of the situation. And I’m still really not sure whether I want it to be.

In fact, I don’t. I don’t want to grow up. I’m not eager to leave home and all my friends and family and choir and drama and high school in general– I want to keep living these memories that I sometimes play over and over again in my head. Sometimes my lack of control over the progression of time is torture for me.

I think what I need to realize is that I may not have control over time passing, but for that very reason, I have to make the choice to control what I am doing with that time. I need to start savoring the good moments more, rather than worrying about what will happen when they’re gone, because that’s something I can deal with when I get there. Even though I sometimes wish my time in high school won’t end, and still can hardly comprehend that it will end soon, I am aware in the back of my mind that one day the experiences I’m having now will be memories that I will replay as I start having new, different, amazing experiences.

So my advice to you is: stop worrying so much, and start enjoying yourself more; make the most out of these years while you can. Though I must admit,

“I give myself very good advice, but I very seldom follow it.” -Alice, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland