High school has been by far the most depressing period of time in my life. Even if someone offered me all the money in the world, I still wouldn't go back. Not even a chance. I still quite haven't figured out why did I hate it so much but all I can think about is how grateful I am it is over now, it was basically just weeks and weeks and weeks of trying not to punch in the face the first person I saw in the hallway at the end of each class and then spending all my precious time and energy onto something I didn't enjoy.
The first thing I did after I graduated was get rid of everything that had to do with my last year of studies. My old backpack, like three small piles of notebooks full of notes I was definitely not going to remember and painful memories of constantly hating on myself and my body for no exact, nor apparently valid reason. It was almost like I had been carrying this ginormous weight on my back and the moment I stepped out through the big, wooden doors from the school entrance, everything bad evaporated into flowers. I was going to have as much time as I wanted to not talk to anyone and just read for hours and hours without worrying about assignments... but this just wasn't going to last forever, was it? And just when I was starting to get constant meltdowns (because obviously I couldn't spend the rest of my life doing nothing and I had to start looking for a university), the only uncle in my family who had managed to escape from this country and build a life in L.A, called my dad and by chance of fate, he put the incredible idea in his head that with some paperwork and a valid passport, there was the possibility of me being accepted into a university and then, being able to study with my cousins in the United States. But sadly money does not grow out of the trees in the streets and you have to work hard to not die of starvation, cause moving in with my uncle didn't necessarily mean that they were going to pay for my stuff. So while I knew that this sudden happiness rush that I had going on because of the whole situation was not going to last forever, I started to look for employment. Shortly after that my parents and I decided that taking a gap year was more less the best idea if I wanted to survive. If you think about it it was a very good plan. After my final year of high school, moving to another country (hopefully in search for a better life), settling and finding a job with which I could maybe someday afford part of my college studies and/or a place to live and finally finishing college and being a millionaire. And maybe my family could move in eventually as well, who knows? There were so many options
