In all of my years on this planet, I have never heard a more fallacious argument than that of “It’s senior year; you should just go” or something to that effect.

Primarily, it pertains to the concept of regret – what we could have done with our fickle time in high school. While it may hold some degree of importance with some students – admittedly, the majority of my friends – this simply is not the case for all students. I vehemently disagree with the notion that consciously acknowledging one’s seniority prones them to enjoy the event more.

Not much changes between freshman and senior year. The dances are just as bad senior year as they were freshman year. Funnily enough, most people probably had more friends with whom to attend dances their freshman year. Further, most have jobs, meaning they will have to shell out money for a dance ticket and various activities through the night.

So, fewer friends, similar songs, and seniority are supposedly the recipe for a great experience? And I have to pay for it? I agree to disagree.

As you can maybe decipher, I abhor this argument. I equate it to preaching one’s religion. Surely it can be argued that both come from good places (saving fellow humans from eternal damnation is pretty much the same as preventing a friend from regretting staying home from an event, no doubt) but are unsolicited nevertheless. Both situations end with the receiving party becoming extremely uncomfortable.

I view this argument as transcending high school events, too. It encapsulates all of the “teen years.” The sentiment of “Go out and do dumb things, you dumb teenagers!” is just absurd. Do what you want.

If a fun night to you includes homework and watching “Nathan for You,” do it. Don’t tie yourself down to the expected notion of teenagers: not everyone likes to do stupid stuff – likewise, not everyone engages in mature things.

Eradicate this societal expectation to have a fun, homogeneous time in high school. Just the other day my coworker lamented her high school years, and told me to appreciate “the best years of my life.” Oof. If this is the best, I don’t know that I want to go on.

Having AP crammed down my throat while at the same time trying to maintain my sanity from succumbing to the caving pressure of the aforementioned AP classes does not seem sound like an ideal existence.

So go out and pay homage to the E.L.F. (I do not in any way condone this) or just stay in and drink hot chocolate. In the ethereal and everlasting words of Lil Uzi Vert: “Do what [you] want.”