During my senior year of high school, music was my life. I had played the saxophone in concert band, marching band and jazz band for a long time, and I felt that senior year would somehow be a peak — a culmination of all the years before. All the blocks would finally fall into place.

I thought I was set. I got into Wind Ensemble, my school’s top concert band. Getting into jazz band, I thought, was nothing more than breezing through an audition. And that section captain slot for marching band seemed to have my name written all over it.

But things quickly went awry. After a terrible audition, I was quickly booted from jazz band. That section captain position was also given away to someone else because she had higher rank than me.

After learning all this, I plowed my way through the beginning of my senior year with a glazed stare. I figured, hell, if I can’t have a good time in marching band, then just suck it up and get through it. When concert season would start up later, that would be my time to shine.

Yet again mistaken. After putting in my time, working my way up through the concert groups, I thought my position as senior would have some sway and some relevance. The saxophone section was made up of a bunch of potheads whom I didn’t quite mesh with. When we figured out songs to play for the year, I found myself having a significant backup role that required little work or effort.

I had once romanticized about the Wind Ensemble. Each prior year I would sit in the audience and watch the band come on stage and put on an impressive performance. They wore tuxedoes, had longer sets and always had the crowd give a standing ovation at the end.

Well, we reached that point while I was in Wind Ensemble, but it wasn’t the same. We got the ovation and I wore the tux, yet it didn’t feel right. I watched over the crowd, watched the soloists give their bows, but all I could think was, “This is it?”

Cut to four years later. In many ways, I’ve grown since high school — some ways for the better, some for the worse. I’ve grown more cynical, more pessimistic, yet strangely more self-aware and self-conscious. I’ve also grown fatter. But still, I find myself flashing back to that year in band and relating it to my college experiences, especially with the Daily.

Feelings may be outwardly different, yet the situation feels the same. Again I feel cast out, isolated from the people around me because I don’t mesh well. This course, though, probably came from my actions more than other people’s prejudices against me — which, in turn, came from my often rude behavior.

Especially in the past few weeks, my thoughts have tried to turn the tables — to pin the blame not on myself, but on all the others around me. When I needed support because I stressed myself to the point of exhaustion, no one was there. But whose fault was this? I know now I can only blame these stressed situations on my own inability to cope.

Still, in all this, I’m beginning to feel better about myself because the situation now seems to mirror my high school year so much. It almost feels cyclical.

But now I’m about to graduate. I’m going to get a job somewhere where I know no one and start over. I know it will be tough at first — to meet new people, to try to fit in some place. But never taking that chance has led me to my current position.

I’m just ready to start learning from all my mistakes.