#00: pilot // a new reality

When I first had the idea to start a blog a while ago, I was instantly unsure of how I was going to start it. At the time, I was living quite a different reality (hence, the title) - one of days that turned into weeks that turned into months of sitting at my desk, terrified, paralysed, with a million thoughts going through my head. My mind was being taken up by schedules, calendars, and mostly shapeless, abstract concepts I had learned hours before and now struggled recalling.

The time I didn't spend at home, I was spending at a smaller, sadder desk. Sitting in front of my iPad, staring at math problems or physics problems or chemistry problems that all kind of blurred into one, actually trying to understand for a while and failing to continue to try for the rest of the day. The same album played in my ears around five times through at its minimum (and that isn't even an exaggeration) - if it matters (and it does to me), it was Charm by Clairo and I believe she's mostly responsible for my survival over the past year. 

Though I was constantly around my people (or at least a few of them), I always felt a little lonely. This was in no way their fault, they were the second, or rather the first, reason I made it to this point in my life. But January was cold and so were February and March and April and May, and when it finally stopped being cold I didn't have the time to notice and I was so lonely, though not alone. I barely ever met up with anyone outside of school and I was constantly craving a hug, but mum was never home and I was too tired to ever ask for one. I made up for the lack of energy by sleeping mostly 8 hours a night, napping on my friends´ lap during recess and sleeping at least an hour after school.

Once awake, I got myself caffeined up and studied until I heard my cats beg for dinner, making me realise I should probably be hungry by this point, too. I kind of knew by this point, but getting my ADD diagnosis helped me understand why none of the studying ever paid off, which had broken any sense of motivation that I might've still had at the time and made me feel the only reason I was even doing any of it was to not have to repeat tenth grade and stay a whole year longer than I had too. 

But this isn't supposed to be about that time; 

The only other reason I kept going was one that I discovered in the early months of this year. In the back of my mind, I kind of knew that a close friend of mine was visiting an art school in her first year, eleventh grade. Not really thinking of what I was doing, I texted her asking about her school. What it was like, how it worked, because I didn't even know you could do your Abi (formal graduation in Germany, kind of crucial to study at any University & really helps to have generally, so most people do everything to get it) at this kind of school. My parents had been telling me all my life how important it was to graduate, how much it would help me out in life. 

I believed it, not only because I was at an age where you believe anything your parents tell you, but my mother had dropped out of school after tenth grade (that being the minimum before you can legally drop out) to study her biggest passion in life, music (more specifically, jazz bass). She knew what she was talking about. She was doing great, but she worked harder than anyone I knew, and know to this day. 

Until this year, I had no idea there was even another way to get your Abitur in Germany other than visiting a Gymnasium, the hardest tier of schools here (other than maybe private or all girl catholic schools, but they also count as a Gymnasium). So you can imagine how shocked I was when my friend texted me that I actually could do my Abitur at this school, that it was a common misconception about the FOS school type (basically technical high schools). Back in the day, when these schools were newer, you could only graduate in the technical area of expertise in the twelfth grade and then start life without a general Abitur. However, things had changed, the FOS schools were modernised and you could just as well get your Abitur at a technical high school, after first graduating in the branch of the school in the twelfth grade. 

So, yeah. My life changed the second I started realising she wasn't joking. I spent a free period that week to research the school and realised I absolutely needed to go there. To you, it might sound very abrupt to decide I was going to switch schools the same week. But I had been suffering more under the academic pressure and my own failures each year since the fifth grade, each year since the sixth grade had been a constant fight against the thought "This will be the year I don't make it through". 

Fun fact: The way I told my mum I wanted to go to this school was by asking her to request my ID because I needed to take it to the entrance exam and I didn't have one yet. I ended up taking my passport. It must have felt like she was gonna freak out any second, but there I was, on school campus on the phone with her, trying to convince her of the new life I was planning for myself. I feel bad that I didn't manage to tell her differently, but I was incredibly afraid and incredibly excited. I recently found a journal entry from the week I told her. I had forgotten how afraid she had been for me. She thought I wasn't gonna go through with graduation, for her, this was all going too fast. Meanwhile, I was stuck panicking she wouldn't allow me to go, but the day of the informative meeting couldn't come fast enough in my eyes. I went to the work exhibition on my own and I knew she was gonna change her mind five minutes into it. 

And - surprise, surprise - she did. 

I spent the rest of the year working harder, having more panic attacks, writing more to-do lists than I ever had before. And when the day of the entrance exam came, it all paid off. I was as happy as I hadn't been in years, if I ever even had been this happy. But with this came a terrifying feeling that snuck its way into my mind, the thought that maybe, I wouldn't be taken. I had seen the person in front of me during the exam and had to sharply inhale. The day of, I didn't let it get to me, I knew this was too important to let myself sabotage my work. I don't know how long exactly it took until the results were out, but it felt like an eternity and a half. 

On that day, I met up with one of my best friends at a café we went to every Thursday to get to catch up and get each other out of our voids, though we also studied most of the times to make up for it. I´m 99% sure the results came out at 17:00. I remember clearly how I had to pull out a box breathing video on YouTube at 16:55 or so, my hands were shaking as if I had walked there in a swimming suit in the cold of March in Germany. And as I searched for my identification number in the seemingly endless pdf file (which felt as least as long as the weeks leading up to this day), she was holding my hand drained of blood. 

For a few seconds it didn't register. I felt like I was gonna throw up. The course of my life had irreversibly changed then and there. We got up for a long hug and I called my mum to tell her that I was in. I was in, I was in, I was going to visit the technical school of arts in our city, I was going to be okay, I was in. 

I was in. 

I don't think I cried. I don't think I had to. There was no need for tears. I was gonna be okay, I just had to survive a few more months. And that's exactly what I did. 

So those months turned into a grand countdown. A countdown to freedom (also the title of a song I wrote at thirteen about the pressure the school work was putting on me, not knowing how my fate was to change).

And then, an eternity or a minute later, I was done. It was one of the last few days of July, I had freshly turned sixteen and had not wasted a single hour buying my first legal beer or kissing a girl I regrettably had a crush on (not as if that could've worked out, she was straight and I barely knew her.. oops. story for another time) - most hours on the countdown clock I kept track of in my head were a mixture of torturous desperation and anticipation, though aliveness started to return every once in a while to get me used to it again. My class Greece trip for example. I visited an Ancient Greek class for three years and I think it might be one of the only parts of my old school I will miss. We started out with seven people, then one girl failed after the first year. 

Don't get me wrong, it was HARD and being six people in one class gave the teacher more chances than ever to make a LOT of grades (and I mean a lot). But we were family in a way, and I think we still are. I think this year the class consists of 2-3 people or so, many people went for the exchange (my girls have left me!!!!! wtf!!!!) and I hope their year isn't too torturous. 

The exchange was melancholic in a way, it was an amazing time but it was simultaneously the last big event I was to share with this class officially. A few greek classes and teachers (plus our German teacher that went to Greece with us) had dinner at a greek restaurant at the end of the semester, a sort of big goodbye for me and a few others. They're planning on having another one next year and told me I'm invited, I can't wait to see everybody again and say hi to the new generation of nerds into the subject. 

But now, it´s finally time for the new era I've been planning for over half a year. I started school two weeks ago and it feels like my most joyous dreams come to life. Though it´s a lot to get used to, I thank my January self and I am so grateful for my attitude once I realised this way was an option. I think I am finally beginning to love myself, really love myself. I am currently in an internship phase (a part of the curriculum) and I am working every day for a place I love and am glad I'm helping them do what they do, finally working out as much as I always wanted to, having time to make art and write songs and do my make up at 7pm on a Tuesday and dancing and then taking it off to go to a concert with my mum and uncle. This feels like how life is supposed to feel. I've felt this before, but it never lasted like it does now. 

During my last holiday from my old school, I wrote a song about my anticipation to finally leave this place behind. One of the lyrics is "just wait until I grow into myself" - and I believe I finally am. 

I will leave you here with a promise of less tangents in the future, this just felt like an appropriate introduction (though I will never be able to not go on tangents, I have a diagnosis, cut me some slack). I likely won't stick to one specific format for this blog because I know I can't keep that promise, but I do hope to get to write here around once a week. Thank you for giving me your time. 

I wanted to start this blog for myself rather than public perception, partially because I know blogs aren't popular anymore and probably only my friends will read this, but I hope to inspire others and get to know myself a little better through this, too. For now, have a good week and I´ll likely see you next Monday! 

x juno