Compiled by Holly Dayton ‘13, Lens Section Editor

Every year, the Scroll runs a series of college essays written by the graduating seniors. This year’s seniors are a very talented class who are leaving CCDS

I have always heard the phrase “money can’t buy happiness,” and have undoubtedly agreed with it. It is preposterous to believe that something like money could bring someone’s life from the depths of despair into the light. Love, kinship and feeling of security do that—not money. It’s been a long journey since that time of childish assumptions, but I’ve made the conclusion that I was both very young and naïve when I believed that money could not buy happiness.

As a child, I never had problems with money or having the coolest toys. I had a few very special porcelain dolls, but the rest was cheap stuff I could destroy (like the kitchenette I covered in nail polish). As I grew, I could find peace with off-brand products and I saw absolutely nothing wrong with something that was the same as the real stuff. What was so wrong with it?

Upon turning 15, I met a girl who changed everything. She stood with her back straight, never wavered in her walk, and spoke with both authority and gentility. She was never taken aback by what others said, and her taste in music was impeccable. Fortunately for her (and adding to the absolute adoration I had for her) her family was rich on the rewards of a product they invented a long time ago. She was born into, and lived among, money.

I wanted to be just like her. My life completely altered under her wing. I spent every second I could with her, because I knew that was the closest I would get to living her life. I spent the night at her house, had dinner with her family, and travelled with her. She had everything I ever wanted but never knew I was missing. I spent a year and a half praying to wake up in her place.

She made it possible for me to transfer to the school she went to, putting me in a society I never knew existed: students wearing $400 boots in the snow, driving $50,000 cars, living in four million dollar houses. Lives free of any worries whatsoever.

After that long year and a half passed, I saw her move away. She graduated and went on her way to one of the best colleges in the country, leaving me in the strange suburbs of Cincinnati with only a slight chance of seeing her again. Her family has stayed a part of my life, insisting that I am welcome any time and to call if I need to stay the night. They are the closest beings to angels I have ever seen: they picked me up from my mediocre life and gave me light. I feel lost, however, at their home without her. She was a part of me, now an empty compartment forever in my heart.

This August, I returned to school without her. It was hard to not look for a reassuring smile in the crowd, but I knew she wouldn’t be there. She left me in this happy world, but at home my life was entirely different. It was a war zone. The psychological and mental pain I was going through was nothing that any of my peers have experienced, and it was that much harder without her there to be the pat on the back and bear hug that softened the blow.

When she left, my life at home was falling to bits. My parents split and a nasty divorce followed. I could not escape it; no matter how many times they said, “You, as kids, shouldn’t have to be involved in this,” I was still sucked in like a tornado ripping me from my happiness. Simple tasks like asking for school supplies became a battle of “Why didn’t your father get them for you?” and “Your mother said no?!” That summer, I cried every night. Money had never been a problem before, but with paying for lawyers and splitting personal belongings, deciding even the most miniscule of finances became a war.

In the middle of a hot, sweaty summer night, I lay in my bed sobbing. My fan was turned up all the way and my window was open to allow crickets and birds to lull me to sleep. In the middle of my misery, I finally realized that money meant everything. It was the source of her happiness, however indirect the path, and its absence the source of my misery.

With this, I have laid out a life plan. I work hard to get the grades because I have promised myself, with every particle in my being, that my children will never be misled as I was. They will never have the impression that you can live happily without money. Yes, you can live happily if both you and everyone around you is poor, but definitely not if you live among the elite. I plan to work and create a life that gives my children everything they need. They won’t have to worry about things like clothes or school supplies or even school spirit t-shirts that all of their friends enjoyed.

Some may argue that this is shallow, that I plan on living a life centered on material and money, but it is just the opposite; if my

children do not have to worry about money, they will never think about money and actually have the time and emotional stability to live their lives.

Fortune has played me a mixed hand, but I am vowing to do everything in my power to switch out my cards to build for myself a better future and never turn back.

HJM