Out of the many iconic lines protagonist Edward Cullen has said throughout the Twilight series, there is one that stands out to me from the first book: “That’s the beautiful thing about being human … Things change.”
For me, the Twilight movie series originated as a small escape from reality, since I have always had an affinity for corny and unrealistic romance. At the beginning of high school, I never imagined revealing my obsession with the saga to others, thinking that it was “cringy” and “irrelevant.” However, like Edward’s lover, Bella, once said, I knew I was “irrevocably in love” with the series, whether it was the oversaturated teal filter or the comedic yet heart-fluttering script. But today, I have worked up the confidence to write a Merionite article based on the series. This transformation proves Edward’s assertion; change is a human’s greatest privilege.
Throughout the series, Edward, a 108-year-old vampire, is insistent on keeping Bella human, and not transforming her into a vampire with his venom. Due to Edward being immortally trapped in a seventeen-year-old body, he wants to live vicariously through Bella’s experiences as she grows older and discovers new parts of herself.
As much as I wished for Bella to eventually join Edward’s vampire universe, I also appreciated Edward’s outlook on humanity. I first recognized the downsides of his immortality in a subtly comedic scene from the first movie, where Bella notices a wall full of graduation caps in the Cullen household, to which Edward responds, “We matriculate a lot.” While the Cullen family is guaranteed unlimited opportunities as teenagers, this also means that they can never move past those years in their lives. The absence of a progressive timeline makes it impossible for them to appreciate the present nor anticipate the future.
Truthfully, the majority of life feels mundane. But I recognize that my perception of the world is always subject to change. Change does not have to be dramatic and sudden; most of the time, it is gradual and occurs over a long period.
My friendships in high school have especially helped me to recognize this. As a devoted figure skater for several years, my social circle heavily relied on my friends at my ice rink. However, when an injury physically distanced me from the rink, I realized that I had greatly neglected the various opportunities within my school to connect with diverse individuals. As much as I felt confident within the skating community, I didn’t experience the same elsewhere. I entered my junior year wanting to change this, realizing that, unlike Edward, I only had one chance to create a rewarding high school experience.
As late as it sounds, I basically started on square one at the beginning of my junior year—the first time in a decade where I wasn’t bound to go to the rink every night. I joined Science Olympiad and befriended longtime members who approached me with empathy and willingly guided me through the many events’ resources. I realized that while we shared a passion for exploring STEM topics, we were truly united by our love for joking around and not always taking life too seriously.
The comfort that I was experiencing in Science Olympiad was similar to the comfort that I felt at the rink, but was also a feeling that also pushed me to not limit myself to one bubble of people and activities. I bonded with various peers in my classes, engaging in conversations that went beyond academics. I recognized the immense privilege I had in learning about others’ passions and interests that greatly differed from my own and became open minded to a mindset that I had never imagined myself to adapt; my hobbies and goals are always subject to change, and there is nothing wrong with that.
Until I entered high school, I only envisioned my future in skating and gave little thought to anything else. Once I reached high school and encountered obstacles such as the pandemic and my injury, it felt like I was clinging onto a dream that was not worth it anymore. Now, I still have the days where I wonder if I will ever find something that I will be as passionate about as I was with skating. However, I now understand that there will always be new opportunities to pursue, and I should not limit myself from trying new things—given the limited time I have.
Aside from learning to keep an open mind to new paths, I have learned another thing about change; it helps me recognize what I want to keep constant in my life. For instance, skating will remain an integral part of my life, regardless of how competitive or technically successful I am with it. I performed in my last ice show at my club rink a couple weeks ago and was reminded of the spark that the ice gave me. But this goes beyond just my hobbies. My value for listening to others will carry me through my future relationships, and my tendency to bring humor in (almost) every situation will help me survive challenges I cannot even imagine right now. I think it is equally important to have these “old” passions and traits as it is to be willing to pursue new ones.
As much as it shocks myself and probably others for me to say this, it is not certain whether my love for Twilight will last for the rest of my life. However, I am certain that a vampire romance has helped me appreciate the mortal changes I experience, and I will be forever thankful for that.
Many of us are likely graduating with some sort of plan after highschool. However, I want to remind everyone, including myself, that whatever I plan on doing right now is never my final decision. I’m glad to be matriculating just once, receiving just one graduation cap, because I will have the privilege of gaining new experiences, even those that I wish I could have prevented, that will shape me into a wiser and happier person.
