Fix your tragic hair

To the naive girl with stars in her eyes, oof, this ain’t High School Musical.

Posing with my sister, the flash of the camera captured my sparkly black eyeshadow and thick winged eyeliner (soon accompanied with electric blue hair). If you remember edgy freshman me, I applaud you ‘cause she’s been deceased for years. However, my defining freshman moment remains (un)gracefully falling down Staircase 5, the epitome of an athlete with my flapping noodle arms. S/o to the guy who wanted to laugh but didn’t. You the real MVP.  

My first time falling in love, I was 16. There were seven of them, dancing in synchronized choreography with colorful hair. It was BTS. From my imitation essay in Brit Lit to the AP Psych research project, BTS undoubtedly influenced my academic (and personal) life (just a tad). I’ll also never forget the long night drives blasting Taylor Swift and 90210 marathons that encompassed sophomore year. Or that I lost my 4.0 — guess the lone pear’s magic didn’t work on me.

I took some L’s junior year — always be wary of snakeus (all tea, no shade). But through the lost, rekindled and undying friendships, I gained an amazing group of people whom I love wholeheartedly (cheesy but endearing). And TBH, we all know the biggest rip that year was my purple hair turned green.

Despite complaining about senioritis, I’ll treasure my time here. Thanks Robert and Richard for allowing me to conduct “Mic Drop.” Barnhouse and Iannone, I’m forever grateful to you both for writing rec letters despite me not talking two-thirds of the time. And finally, thanks Tyson for dealing with my mess in AP Econ and Henderson for loaning me Legs (who I might’ve accidentally stolen).

With love,

PCMPNBBSP (Pork Chop, Mermaid Princess, Narwhal, Banana Bear, Strawberry Panda)