It’s my fourth and final year at Boulder High, and at last, I understand why seniors are mad at the world and bitter toward the other classes. 

When I was but a lowerclassmen, the pressures of school had not yet caused the downfall of my mental health, and the world still felt welcoming and fair. But I genuinely believe that for most, like me, junior year is the year that claims your soul and that by senior year all you want is to be done with high school life. You no longer understand trivial drama, you no longer care about what others think of you, and in that sense, being a senior is liberating. The only thing that matters is being accepted by a college and finding a sustainable job by the end of the year. We  cannot emotionally comprehend why you’re sobbing in the hallways or bathrooms because your crush is dating someone else. If you had decided to actually make a move instead of avoiding eye contact and thinking that he can understand you telepathically, you might have avoided this nonsense.

Another thing that truly gets under our skin is the gremlins who decide to clog the hallways. My god, the freshmen this year have nearly moved me to tears, with their abrupt stops in the hallways to hug a friend or to exchange comments on an outfit. As a very tired senior, I beg you to please keep moving in the hallways at a brisk pace. Otherwise, you very well may be met with an elbow to the face as seniors try to shove past you. The percentage of upperclassmen that will shove you out of the way will only increase as the year progresses. Although our minds may shatter like glass, we still have the upper hand as far as weight and height. Respect the hierarchy. 

However, some of you youngsters need to calm down. Running through the courtyard or crowded hallways after your friends will cause us emotional distress, especially when we’re shoved against a locker by the impact of a small human monster. We are bigger than you, but we’re still very emotionally fragile. All of our extra energy must be directed toward trying to meet some sort of college or school work deadline, and even the smallest disturbance can make us want to crawl into bed under a heavy pile of blankets and nap until we have a diploma. Senioritis is a true affliction that even the best of us succumb to. 

Another issue I must address is the yelling. How, dear lord, can your tiny lungs produce so much sound? Even when you’re trying to be quiet, it’s like listening to a stampede of elephants! Please don’t scream across the hallway to talk about the cute boy that made eye contact with you (I know this sounds crazy, but eye contact literally means nothing), the highlights of a game we all know you didn’t watch, or your “epic” weekend plans. 

In conclusion, seniors aren’t mean; we’re just fragile creatures clawing for our impending freedom. I promise that you will reach this mental state and understand once you too have reached the top. But in the meantime, please take care of your elders by respecting that our mental health and wellbeing, as the youth say, is nearly “gone, reduced to atoms.”