High school angst

I didn't enjoy my time at high school. Not at all, not a bit. I remember when Year 9 ended, when I was 15, thinking Oh God, there's still three more years to go. A heavy weight descended at that realisation, and didn't lift until school was finally over.

What was wrong? Well, I wasn't that engaged in the classes (even though I did OK), it felt like torture having to go back and study the same things over and over for 2 whole years in preparation for the final exams, I hated the way the school treated us like children, I hated the whole crappy line (and numerous threats) that how we did at school would determine the rest of our lives, the uniform sucked, and I didn't like the caste system where you had your group of friends and that was that, even if the group didn't really get along. Toss in a regular dose of teen angst, the whole cool kids vs dags thing, and some teenage girl bitchiness (it was a girls' school), and, well, you get the picture.

Since leaving, I have kept in touch with just one school friend. There were a few more at first, I even went to a couple of weddings, but eventually we lost contact. We didn't seem to have anything in common. I had no desire to go to any reunions. I can't even remember the bulk of the girls in my year.

Which makes it kind of odd that, every now and again, I become intensely curious about how people turned out. I'd love to be a fly on the wall at a reunion. I'd jump at the chance to spy, with no way for anyone to see me. I can't figure out the motivation for this... do I want to mock? To gloat? To buzz in the ears of the girls I didn't like?

So anyway, this week, out of the blue, I got the chance to be that fly. Another friend from school, who I am actually very happy found me through Facebook last year, sent me an invitation to join the Facebook group for my year.

Only, I'm a fly trapped outside. I can see tiny faces of a few people, get small tantalizing glimpses of their lives now, but can't do a good close-up snoop. For that, I'd need to friend these people. And then they'd be able to snoop on me, too.

Oh the angst. Do I join the group? Do I friend? Do I just keep coming back to the window every now and again to see what I can glean?

And most pressing of all: why is a group of middle-aged women I haven't seen for half my life taking up so much of my thinking time?