What Happens to a Dream Cut Short?

(3/14/2023) - As I told myself exactly one year ago, this blog post goes live today, one year since the event. My statement in the first paragraph about this post not being public applies to the period from one year ago to yesterday. I have not proofread the post since then, and I am posting it. Has it already been a year? Everything past this point was written one year ago.

 First, this post is not supposed to be about myself, but it is my attempt to put my thoughts into words. Second, this post is not meant to be public. If you are reading this, I don't know how you got access to it. Third, this is not good writing. It's a simple expression of the thoughts in my head. Not organized, nor planned. Although written over the course of a couple days, the POV and grammar tense will be as if it was all written on March 15, 2022.

For R.K.

 What happens to a dream cut short? A dream cut short is not a dream deferred. Yes, I know the actual meaning of that poem, but I'd like to borrow its title. People often dream about their futures, and especially teenagers are strongly encouraged to find out what they like doing in life and choose a dream to follow. We then often build out our plans, as adults tell us to, to maximize our chances of achieving our goals. She had a dream too. A couple weeks ago, in English, we were learning about the roaring 20s while reading The Great Gatsby. Our teacher asked us what our dreams were and what it was that we were reaching out for as Gatsby reached out to the green light. She answered. She wanted to learn to be a therapist, get married, and I specifically remember her saying that she wanted to have a large family with 3 or 4 children. A somewhat old-fashioned dream by some standards, but a respectable dream nonetheless.

 High schools are the most dream-dense locations on the entire planet. Each student,  working towards their goal, or at least something in their future. I imagine every one of my classmates with a shining beam like a film reel projecting forward, brightening their future. I think I am feeling, not realizing, through this event that life is fragile and short. I often keep my eyes on the horizon, what's coming next, what should I do to prepare for what, and I've never thought about what could happen in the next day.

 Yesterday, she was here, in my Honors English 11 class. She was on the right side of the room during semester 1, and for the past 9 weeks of semester 2, she sat in the row one to the right from me, three seats ahead, in the front row. Yesterday she took out the book that we're reading, A Farewell To Arms, from her backpack and read. Yesterday she was right there as our English teacher went through our 14th batch of vocab words from our vocab book. Yesterday, I was in the back left corner seat as usual, and uncharacteristically, dozing off and fighting sleep while I tried to take notes on the etymology of mendacious. Yesterday, every seat in that class was filled. Yesterday, I saw her walk into class, and I thought what I often did, that she looked and talked very similarly to someone else that I knew. Yesterday it was March 14, 2022; It was Pi Day.

 Now it is today. Today is March 15, 2022. Today school started with a special announcement, adding on her story in topics to be considered during the daily moment of silence. Today, my first-period pre-calc class was inconsolable. Today, a normally bright and energetic class, was dead silent for the entire period. No one wanted to say anything, and our teacher knew well enough to not expect class engagement. My chemistry class mostly made up of sophomores, had a fairly regular day. I had interior design, french 3 (which was quiet for 2 reasons), and lunch. Then it was English. Today two seats were empty. The seat in the front row in the column to my right, and the seat immediately behind that. I knew that the second seat would be empty today, she was a friend of hers and had been missing from lunch. Today, two other seats were filled when I walked in. The two counselors. Everyone knew why they were here, everyone knew the gist of what they were going to say. Today, the class was quietly solemn, and lachrymose. Today I felt new things.

 It was March 14, 2022. Pi Day! I didn't even realize that until someone reminded me at school. School was normal, albeit a little dry. I got the news that our math teacher was retiring. I was saddened and wondered who would be teaching my AP Calculus BC class next year. I went to Competitive Programming Club, went home, did homework. I went to taekwondo. One hour later, the lesson was finished and I walked out. I checked my phone on the way back. Nothing there. After a late dinner, I got back on my phone. New announcement on our Robotics club Slack. It read,

"In light of recent events, the CRAM room will be open tomorrow for those who need to retreat there." - 8:46 PM

I sensed that something bad had happened, but had no idea what. I feared for the worst, not thinking it would actually be true. After homework, I checked Discord. I was in a server with a bunch of other people who were friends with each other, but only marginally with me since I just moved here. I hadn't even met a third of them in real life. One of the friends left a message that they were leaving the server for a few days, assuring us that we knew why. It was 9:43 PM. This was getting worse faster. I connected some dots. I remembered how a couple hours earlier, right after we went to taekwondo, my sister had mentioned that this was a sad week, with someone's sister having been involved. I got the idea but had no clue about the details of the situation. I asked a friend. I got a response. I found out my fear had come true.

 I've always known about how humans go about their lives. I've known all the ways we finish our stories. I just was not expecting something so sudden, so close. I was not really that close really. The extent to which I knew her was that I vaguely recognized her name from English when I heard it. I, of course, was not even certain that she was the right person until I walked into English today. I can guarantee that she had nothing of a closer relationship with me either. I am often surprised by learning what people are in my class sometimes, it would not be weird if she didn't know who I was either. But by the simple act that we were in the same room, for 1 hour a day on weekdays, it created a link in my head. It was different than a story or a piece of gossip. It was real. I've thought about this a lot over the course of last night and today. At home, I thought about much of this text while taking my shower. When I got out, I looked in the mirror. I saw a blank, emotionless face. The person I saw in the mirror was perhaps zoning out, not thinking about anything, or simply apathetic. Internally, I felt a lot of different things. Before, this type of event had been far away. An aunt I've never met, a social media post of Ukraine, etc. This was different. It felt sudden, unexpected, and surprisingly final. Of course, all people finish their stories at some point, but she hadn't even gotten to chapter 1 of her story. It ended before it began. Before the major trials of life. Before the great triumphs of her life. Before her story hit its climax with her defining moment and legacy to the world.

 I have a new fear. The scariest part about this isn't her physical absence (As I didn't really know her), emotional effect, or even cars. To me, the sudden finality is scary. Happily discussing literature one day, gone forever the next. A full dream, looking attainable in the near future, cut short the next.

 I am now old enough that I will probably remember this forever. Maybe not. But very likely. Yesterday and Today marks an important and sudden shift in my thinking. I was and am a very utilitarian person. My experience in Lincoln-Douglas Debate has shaped me to see the world through many moral lenses, with utilitarianism being one of my favorites. Now I see how we can put some of those harsh utilitarian views down for a moment. And really focus on the human experience.  The thoughts in this text I had originally planned for multiple articles. Now they're all here. What makes humans different from animals? We are storytelling machines, we are different because we tell stories. We tell stories of ancient legends, civilizations long gone. We tell stories of recent events, the tragedies of war. We tell stories about the future, some hopeful, some dystopian. This story is an important story to me. What Happens to a Dream Cut Short? It can live in our memories and stories.

Le Fin

Appendum:
This was a simultaneously hard and swift piece to write. I didn't care about what I typed, so I typed and typed, and this is what I have. I feel like if I was any more invested in the situation, I would've been unable to write this.

Appendum 2:
As I mention, I did not know her anywhere even close to enough to write anything meaningful about her. I am not fit of carrying on her story fully. However, I fully trust that my classmates, who are actual friends of hers, will carry out that job much better than I ever could in a short text piece. This is my small contribution to her story.

Appendum 3:
The ending is obviously a blatant, simplistic attempt of giving this tough, real-life story a fairy tale ending. If AP WH and WP USH have taught me anything, it's that there is no simple black and white thing in life. I only decided to keep those sentences because I wanted to give this thing a sense of closure. Even if not true, I can use it as a way to cope with whatever feelings I felt and progress forward.