Moving on


Alivia Burger, Reporter

It’s been a long ride but it’s finally here. The number I’ve been staring at for years. I never thought I’d see the day where I’d see the number that has been looming over me for seven years. Years. They add up fast. It’s funny actually. I was looking forward to this number but now I want to go back to the other ones. My time has come and I hadn’t even planned for it. I’ve lost friends on my way to reach my number. Some of their departures have left me bitter. At first I told myself it would be better this way, allowing my old friends to be unbothered and reach their own number. Even if we share it. But no one’s number is the same. Some people’s numbers are exciting and new. Others are frightful and dangerous. Mine is complacent waiting for me to develop and give it something new.

I can’t define my number until it’s gone, but in all reality that won’t be long. My number has made me anxious and scared. And yes, I do know it is stupid and childish to be upset about my number, some have had worse. Everyone has their number. But some never make it to it. Others give up on their number and reach it once it isn’t theirs anymore. I am going to reach mine. I never planned to. I didn’t know if I would or not. But it’s here. I miss the old numbers dearly. The numbers where I still had old friends that I have since lost. But I know that those friends have made an impact on me and I on them, so maybe it isn’t too bad. To leave them with old numbers. It helps to imagine them reaching the same number as me, knowing we are all just as anxious.

Because that’s always how it is. Anxious in a good way. Anxious in a bad way. I know we’re all scared. Even those who have hurt me. Even those that I have hurt. I never tried to. That let’s me hope they didn’t mean to hurt me either. Even as I leave the old numbers, their pain and hope and love and anger will live on with me forever. I’ll never forget the old numbers. But for now, I’m moving on to my number.