Based on a True Story: Deception and Dialogue


Lead Copy Editor


  Every teen/kid/adult you will interact with: “How has senior year been going for you? How are you doing?”

  Every senior: “Fine.” Well that was a lie.

  To be curt, senior year has been a similitude of death— hopefully second semester will revitalize the corpse caused by the college process. You will probably pull all nighters, cry profusely, question your self worth and identity as if you are playing a game of “Guess Who”, and then cry some more as an attempt to cleanse the soul. Oh yes, we’re doing “fine.”

  Our will to live authentically is vanishing, being replaced by a resinous impulse to fabricate. Yes, I do often condemn the screens of social media for this: making users feel inherently worthless if you don’t have a “satisfactory followers to followed ratio.” The consumption of followers, friends, and reassurance. Being wrought by competition, our generation does have a valid excuse to gain reassurance through retweets; however, we should rather find comfort in conversations.

  We as a society imprison our emotions most often by the dungeons of diction, closing ourselves off with the fortresses that words like “fine” put up around us.

  We as a society lack compassion— the rapidity of technology is a heavy factor of this. However, the most blatant enemy is ourselves. The psychological social norms we place on ourselves and others not only is unrealistic, but is also unhealthy. We are not robots, able to have our moods manufactured. Why must we be coded to command the words “fine” and “good/well” when asked how we are doing?

  We are as much the culprits for the lack of compassion as we are the recipients. The way we change that is that we become more honest with ourselves and with those around us. Yes, we are programmed to listen and to love– some things that decision letters and social media don’t always offer.  

  What if words like fine, good/well, and bad were eliminated from our lexicon? We would be more expressive, more definitive, and more genuine. Maybe we would care more, as it will require more effort for us to reveal our emotions.

  Now, to truthfully answer the first question. I think we’re all in a state of incessant struggle: stop trying to airbrush it. An acne of anguish, a rash of remembrance, and a bruise of brevity. Despite it all, these scars of high school, especially senior year, will leave us with strength and sanguinity. And that, I promise you, will all be “fine.”