THE CLOCK KEEPS TICKING

I thought I had so much time.

I thought nine months was plenty of time to do what I wanted.

If this story doesn’t work for this issue, I’ll just write it for the next one.

If I can’t go on a run now, I’ll do it the next time I wake up early.

The “next times” and “next ones” ended up turning into nevers and not gonna happens.

I wanted to learn how to take photos. I wanted to become a better storyteller, a better person and a better leader.

But as it always does, life got in the way. Health and family issues interrupted. College decisions and the need for scholarships interrupted. Missing math assignments and poetry analysis interrupted.

All this time I thought I had kept shrinking. Now, all I can think about is the time I have lost and how I will spend the time I have left.

Three weeks to learn how to use a camera turned into two weeks to write all those stories I wanted to write. One week to teach everything about the website turned into one day to say goodbye.

It’s like I’m frozen and everyone around me is still moving, scrambling about, planning the first big thing of next school year, while trying to hold onto 2022-23.

I’ve been trying not to be cynical and give up, but May 12 is rapidly approaching. In reality, I don’t have the time for anything but finishing high school with the grades needed to maintain my college scholarships. I no longer have time for all of the nexts.

If I could give you one piece of advice, it would be this: Don’t wait for the time to take the next opportunity. Make the time, now.

— time goes on. There will be future recipients of the robe and I will be back in the fall to award the robe to the next person.

It’s not all goodbyes. Some things are gone, but as my high school years come full circle, a new loop is added to the messy paper chain of life.

Write that award-winning story, now – everyone has a story that can be told. Go to that dance, now – even if you don’t have a date. Do that research paper, now – sorry I was so late, Dr. Boren.

Seize those opportunities as they come, or run the risk of running out of time – like I did.