Ode to Not Peaking Early

Ode to Not Peaking Early

(A spoken word piece with humor and a healthy dose of perspective.)

They told us high school

was the moment.

The championship.

The coronation.

The yearbook frozen in glossy laminate,

as if seventeen came with a lifetime warranty.

As if life was one long reunion

where everyone still cared

who sat at the cool table.

Bless our teenage hearts.

Here's to the BMOCs,

the Big Men on Campus.

Walking the hallways

like the lockers belonged to them.

Varsity jackets with enough patches

to qualify as museum exhibits.

Hair sculpted by hope,

confidence held together

with gel,

and the unwavering belief

that Algebra II was a suggestion.

And here's to the HCIS,

the Hottest Chicks in School.

Who somehow looked like they had

their own lighting crew

following them from chemistry

to third period English.

They did not walk.

They floated.

Meanwhile the rest of us

were discovering

that braces,

puberty,

and school picture day

were part of the same practical joke.

Back then,

everyone thought the story

had already been written.

"Oh, that's the quarterback."

"She's the prom queen."

"They're going places."

Well...

So are the rest of us.

Because life does not stop

at graduation.

It barely even begins.

Turns out...

The kid who ate lunch

next to the vending machine

starts three companies.

The theater geek

ends up speaking to thousands.

The band kid

writes music for movies.

The chess club captain

retires before forty.

And someone who spent

four years trying to disappear

finally looks in the mirror

at thirty-five

and says,

"There you are."

Because adulthood

is the greatest group project

where nobody remembers

who won Best Hair.

The BMOC

is now watching YouTube tutorials

on how to install a ceiling fan

without calling his father-in-law.

The HCIS

is laughing because she finally bought shoes

that prioritize arch support

over approval.

And the rest of us?

We become interesting.

Wrinkles become subtitles.

Scars become footnotes.

Failures become origin stories.

Confidence stops being loud

and starts becoming quiet.

See...

Peaking early

is like eating dessert

before the meal.

Sure,

it tastes amazing.

Then you realize

you skipped the whole feast.

I'd rather be

the slow-rise sourdough

than the microwave muffin.

I'd rather bloom

like the cactus

that waits years

just to throw

one ridiculous,

spectacular flower

at the universe.

Give me the awkward years.

Give me the wrong turns.

Give me careers

that become callings.

Friendships

that outlive popularity.

Love

that survives bad haircuts.

Laughter

that gets louder

every decade.

Because the real flex

is not being unforgettable

at seventeen.

It is becoming someone

you are genuinely happy to meet

at forty.

So here's my toast.

To every late bloomer.

To every comeback.

To everyone who looked around

at the BMOCs

and the HCIS

and quietly wondered,

"Did I miss my chance?"

No.

You just skipped

the opening act.

The headline performance

hasn't even started.

And if life insists

on asking us to peak,

let's be gloriously,

stubbornly,

fashionably late.