Recreating the GHP Magic
Chelsea Lin
It’s been months since 650 kids woke up in a bed that was close to the ground, too close to reality, no longer reaching for the sky
It’s been months since we woke up alone, without noisy roommates to blink at, friends to meet at breakfast, people to see within minutes of waking
It’s been months since we’ve woken back in our houses and found ourselves nostalgic for a dorm, woken back to family only to miss classmates
After four weeks of bliss, of forgetting to fake, four weeks of being nothing but aggressively true to yourself, everything else seems shifted
For all of the extensions of the alumni that have no idea what this magical summer camp was, for all those friends and family that only know GHP as that annoying thing this child can’t shut up about.
On paper, on resumes, they’re going to say it was a college prep program.
In person, in experience, it was so much more.
It was the harmony of so many kids, all giving and taking
The best and brightest of Georgia were shining each other, competition eliminated, all in constant awe of how many different forms talent could take
It was diversity, it was every race, sexuality, shape, gender celebrating who they were.
It was loving myself as I was because here were so many others that I saw myself in.
It was friendship, unprecedented connections, people that I would have forgotten to know back home, people that I never thought myself equal to realizing that we were both full of talent.
It was knowledge, exposure to topics I never thought to think of, classrooms full of students mentally competent enough to be my teachers, learning faster than my mind could move.
It was emotion, letting loose, being free to feel, crying with my guard down knowing that nonjudgmental hugs would meet my tears, having anxiety over due dates only to have friends take my hands, talking through deep-seated balls of butterflies with others in the dark.
It was family, the smiles whenever we walked past each other, the running into hugs, the late nights up eating and sharing details of our days.
It was finding others that mirrored parts of me I forgot I had in myself.
It is me frantically writing down every memory I can grasp, trying to rewrite what I am missing back here
The real world seems to be missing a few things now:
I chafe at the sound of censorship, the absence of liberty to be whomever we choose for ourselves
I miss being able to chase whatever idea I had, learning whatever I thought to question, saying whatever my creativity birthed, wearing whatever I felt embodied my personality.
I miss the like-mindedness. The one body we were. Liberal because we believed in personal liberty, loud because we had passion behind beliefs, articulate because we cared enough to speak.
I miss the casual multilingual conversations, the eye contact communication, the way a guitar and piano could speak, the hugs that lifted spirits.
I love my friends here, but now my heart has grown and it loves more people than ever.
And now I am back and I know that I cannot live in this haze of nostalgia forever.
But it’s hard to recreate that feeling exactly,
That environment that requires 649 others
A family usually doesn’t need that many members,
But mine does.
And I know you’re probably sick of hearing about it,
But I just wanted to try and tell you,
It was a privilege to go somewhere where:
My voice was applauded,
My abilities were something to be proud of,
My ambitions weren’t lonely, and
My true self was amplified.
And now that I’m back home and sometimes out-of-place is more common a sentiment than acceptance,
I remember that it wouldn’t do the rest of the world good if we were stuck in our haven.
Because now sometimes I’m uncomfortable, but sometimes that’s a better thing to be.
Now my voice will have to be louder, regardless of backlash, and I will spur you to say what you truly think
Now my talents are not something to pair with shame, and I will cheer on your newly showcased abilities
Now my ambitions are renewed with every doubt, and I will listen and support you when no one else does
Now I have a responsibility to be an unaltered version of myself, and I must encourage you to find the same boldness.
Because I miss it, and now I will recreate it.
It’s been months since we woke up alone, without noisy roommates to blink at, friends to meet at breakfast, people to see within minutes of waking
It’s been months since we’ve woken back in our houses and found ourselves nostalgic for a dorm, woken back to family only to miss classmates
After four weeks of bliss, of forgetting to fake, four weeks of being nothing but aggressively true to yourself, everything else seems shifted
For all of the extensions of the alumni that have no idea what this magical summer camp was, for all those friends and family that only know GHP as that annoying thing this child can’t shut up about.
On paper, on resumes, they’re going to say it was a college prep program.
In person, in experience, it was so much more.
It was the harmony of so many kids, all giving and taking
The best and brightest of Georgia were shining each other, competition eliminated, all in constant awe of how many different forms talent could take
It was diversity, it was every race, sexuality, shape, gender celebrating who they were.
It was loving myself as I was because here were so many others that I saw myself in.
It was friendship, unprecedented connections, people that I would have forgotten to know back home, people that I never thought myself equal to realizing that we were both full of talent.
It was knowledge, exposure to topics I never thought to think of, classrooms full of students mentally competent enough to be my teachers, learning faster than my mind could move.
It was emotion, letting loose, being free to feel, crying with my guard down knowing that nonjudgmental hugs would meet my tears, having anxiety over due dates only to have friends take my hands, talking through deep-seated balls of butterflies with others in the dark.
It was family, the smiles whenever we walked past each other, the running into hugs, the late nights up eating and sharing details of our days.
It was finding others that mirrored parts of me I forgot I had in myself.
It is me frantically writing down every memory I can grasp, trying to rewrite what I am missing back here
The real world seems to be missing a few things now:
I chafe at the sound of censorship, the absence of liberty to be whomever we choose for ourselves
I miss being able to chase whatever idea I had, learning whatever I thought to question, saying whatever my creativity birthed, wearing whatever I felt embodied my personality.
I miss the like-mindedness. The one body we were. Liberal because we believed in personal liberty, loud because we had passion behind beliefs, articulate because we cared enough to speak.
I miss the casual multilingual conversations, the eye contact communication, the way a guitar and piano could speak, the hugs that lifted spirits.
I love my friends here, but now my heart has grown and it loves more people than ever.
And now I am back and I know that I cannot live in this haze of nostalgia forever.
But it’s hard to recreate that feeling exactly,
That environment that requires 649 others
A family usually doesn’t need that many members,
But mine does.
And I know you’re probably sick of hearing about it,
But I just wanted to try and tell you,
It was a privilege to go somewhere where:
My voice was applauded,
My abilities were something to be proud of,
My ambitions weren’t lonely, and
My true self was amplified.
And now that I’m back home and sometimes out-of-place is more common a sentiment than acceptance,
I remember that it wouldn’t do the rest of the world good if we were stuck in our haven.
Because now sometimes I’m uncomfortable, but sometimes that’s a better thing to be.
Now my voice will have to be louder, regardless of backlash, and I will spur you to say what you truly think
Now my talents are not something to pair with shame, and I will cheer on your newly showcased abilities
Now my ambitions are renewed with every doubt, and I will listen and support you when no one else does
Now I have a responsibility to be an unaltered version of myself, and I must encourage you to find the same boldness.
Because I miss it, and now I will recreate it.