They say that wisdom comes with age. I’ve never really agreed with that statement as it implies that you have to be a certain age to be a certain amount of “wise,” which isn’t very truthful.

I believe that wisdom comes with experience – and experience doesn’t care about age.

My freshman year, last year, can only be described as an experience. I probably should’ve expected a strenuous year from that very first day, though.

I knew a grand total of one person in a school of thousands, and considering that I am not someone who makes friends easily, I was basically left to fend for myself in all but two of my classes. Besides that, I spent the whole first day asking whatever higher power may be in existence to keep me from making that freshman mistake of walking into the wrong class.

After three long periods spent wondering how it was even possible that everyone in the class knew one another except for me, lunch break came around. I met up with the only familiar face in a sea of strangers and the two of us sat together, trying hard to keep up a decent conversation.

Let’s fast-forward a month into the school year: I was friendless and quickly realizing that my tiny, rural middle school did not prepare me for the vastness of high school. My grades were beginning to dip, I did the absolute bare minimum in all six of my classes, and I started seeing a therapist on a weekly basis.

That was me: a 14-year-old high school freshman who didn’t want to get out of bed in the morning, who knew how willingly people would accept fatigue as the reason for my lack of participation.  And I was tired. Just not physically.

Then, I had a bit of an awakening, or a shift, if you will.

I found this book written by Ned Vizzini entitled It’s Kind of a Funny Story. The novel chronicles the experience of Craig Gilner, a 15-year-old high school freshman who begins to crumble due to the pressures of school, society, and parents who really just want him to succeed.

Craig attends a school filled with students who all seem to do a lot better than him, causing him to feel utterly average, maybe even below average. Despite having somebody to call a best friend, he doesn’t feel like anybody’s really around to listen. Craig’s eating and sleeping becomes erratic and unstable, until he ultimately checks into a mental hospital.

The way Craig described his life sounded eerily similar to the way I was feeling at the time. When I realized this, I decided that I needed to pull myself together.

Of course, it’s always easier said than done, but I got my grades back up, I plastered a smile on my face, and I quit feeling so sorry for myself.

Now, I’m nearly halfway through sophomore year and I’m not going to lie – it’s really hard. I’ve had my fair share of days where I cry for what feels like no reason. I’ve thrown the occasional pity party. I’ve even managed to convince myself that I’m getting bad again.

I’m not.

I know now that if I really have to, I should just step back and take a breather. I’ve forced myself to come out of my shell a bit more, which has allowed for me to meet some genuinely amazing people that make me feel much less lonely. I’ve also realized that people don’t suck that much.

And if I can’t seem to find it within myself to stop being so darn sad all the time, I pick up Ned Vizzini’s novel and remember that it’s not ever as bad as it seems.