Everything has changed. My life is completely different than it was a year ago. And maybe even a month ago. It’s all happened since the day of my 16th birthday. This past winter break was so happy and peaceful. And while I didn’t accomplish half the things that were on my agenda the day school got out, I felt better than I’d ever felt before.
I’m appreciating many of the things I disliked in the past. I love paintings. I enjoy visiting museums. I don’t have to be dragged on walks. My ridiculous pickiness with food has lessened a lot, but I’ll admit it’s still present. Above all these though, I’ve discovered an intense love of language.
I adore every second of French class. It happens to be far and away my hardest class, but still I love it more than any other. I’ve written more essays for that class than I’ve written in English class. Often I’ll find myself translating everything I say into French, and occasionally the French comes out unconsciously. Writing a good French essay is bliss. I feel like everything that gets on paper is poetic and clever.
This feeling can be largely attributed to the staggering benevolence of my French teacher, Madame Selvin. Some of my fellow students can’t stand her – she gives out buckets of homework, and expects so much all the time. She understands her students more than any other teacher I’ve ever met. She knows we procrastinate on large projects, she knows when we are giving ficticious excuses, and she knows when we’ve put a lot of effort into our work. Every day in the past few weeks, a former student of Madame Selvin’s comes in during class and has a mini reunion with her. I know there’s something special about her when I see this daily occurence in her class, and in none of my others. It makes me feel lucky to have her at our school.
Essentially, I have finally discovered the painting that’s been hanging on my wall since I was six. For all my previous years, language has just been a tool. A method of communication, but nothing more. And now, thanks in part to French class, it’s become an essential part of my life. If you browse through the archives of my posts, you’ll be able to see some profound changes in writing style and mindfulness of language.
I’ve also had an entirely different change. This one’s in the social arena. I’ve developed an incredibly special relationship with two people. The three of us have reached this beautiful plateau where nothing is held back. Anything I feel, good or bad, can be confided in them. I don’t need to worry about their opinion. If we’re in complete disagreement over something, we don’t have to comtemptuously hold back our feelings or bicker about it. We know we’ll still love each other the next day. Not having to worry about that is fantastically blissful.
I’ll meddle in love now. All of the relationships I’ve ever been in have had something held back. And that’s obviously to be expected of middle and early high school. There was always a level of emotional intimacy that couldn’t be reached. Now I’ve penetrated a different and deeper region of my heart. This girl, she’s one of those two friends I mentioned. I don’t fancy her. I’m not obsessed with her and I don’t worship her. But I love her so damn much. And I have since that sweeping birthday that changed me so much. I used to constantly worry about every action I took with a girl. Everything had to be calculated and inspected for emotional hints. That sky-scraping barrier has been undone now. My mind isn’t nagged with tension and nervousness. Even if perhaps she’s not in love with me, I’m happy.
That’s all for now. I don’t really expect a lot of comments on this post. It’s not one of those discussion-oriented that Jalenack usually possesses. I felt like I had to write this down, if only for my own well-being. This is the most personal I’ve been here, and oh does it feel good.