Subway Sandwich

What feels like a long time ago, I used to love reading about fantastical mythological creatures. I read The Goddess Girls in fourth and fifth grade, later becoming obscenely obsessed with The Last of the Firedrakes by Farah Oomerboy. I don't think a single book that I have read since then has left a greater impression on me.

I promised myself to never stop believing in fairies and mythological creatures, no matter how old I got or how immature it sounded in my head - it was something just for me. But as I have grown older, I can't see the truth in those tales anymore. I'm way more science-oriented now, and I give facts more importance than opinions.

If a younger version of myself met me at age 17, I'm sure she would be sad, after all, it's like I've wiped her core values away. I have opinions for myself now, and I know the clear difference between right and wrong. I don't do the same things as her. She could barely envision going to high school, but now I'm looking forward to college.

It's my senior year now, and nostalgia has hit me like a brick. I find myself wondering what younger me used to think in certain scenarios. A few days ago, I glanced back at my memories and habits and thought about my go-to Subway sandwich order, which I decided at around age nine and have stuck to ever since. With college around the corner, I wonder what other parts of myself will stay the same, and what parts will change. On the contrary, younger me would have wondered about the new things coming and how she could experience it all. I hope I never forget why I believed in fairies in the first place: I wanted to see beauty in the world and be a part of something special. And even if some people say I live too much in my head, I think those memories are there so that I can reflect and be happy, and now is the time to do it.

Young Hamlet is obsessed with his father's death the way that I'm obsessed with my memories over the years. His uncertainty leads to many unanswerable questions: what did King Hamlet do to be stuck in penance? How could his mother marry his uncle so fast? My questions have been similar, pondering the existence of the future and asking myself what I would have done if I was still that girl who loved reading fantasy books. Both of us are stuck in our heads, one angry, and one more thankful for the experience and struggles they went through. I hope Hamlet finds a way out of his insanity. I hope that he learns to be thankful for the experiences that let him grow instead of being stuck on the same issues. I hope he learns to love the things that make him, himself like I have.