If you met me freshman year, you probably saw my super slicked-back tight high pony, layers upon layers of blush, and the bright red lipstick that occupied my face almost every weekend. I was most likely anywhere but school, on a stage, hitting a two-minute routine, and in May, there was only one thing you would ever hear me talk about: Disney World.
Every year from third grade until my sophomore year, the month of May was spent in Disney. Whether it was at an All-Star resort or an Airbnb with an elevator, that month was the highlight of my year. I have always been an avid roller coaster rider; for a long time, rides like Tower of Terror and Splash Mountain were what I sought out. However, my preferences for Test Track and Mission Space at EPCOT were quickly changed as I discovered a new ride: A Journey into Imagination with Figment.
The first time I discovered this ride was by accident—a pit stop from the blaring Florida sun. But I fell in love with it right away. The experience is hosted by Dr. Nigel Channing, who tries to lead a rigid, scientific tour, only to have it hijacked by Figment, a small purple dragon who turns the world upside down to prove that imagination has no limits. The journey concludes with the song “One Little Spark,” a reminder that our minds are our greatest tools.
That one “accidental” ride turned into a bit of an obsession. Today, my closet is a museum of purple artifacts: Figment socks, a long-sleeve tee, the iconic Mickey ears, and a Figment Cuddlez pillow that has survived every late-night study session of my senior year. But as I look at these souvenirs and prepare to graduate, I’ve realized the irony of my favorite character’s name.
We often treat high school as the “end-all, be-all” of our existence. We lose sleep over a single test grade or stress over social shifts as if they are permanent, immovable facts of life. But standing here at the end of the ride, I’ve realized the truth: High school is just a figment. It is a fleeting, four-year simulation. Much like Figment’s “Open House” in the ride, high school is a place where things feel upside down, chaotic, and occasionally overwhelming. But it isn’t the “real world”—it’s a temporary space designed to help us figure out who we are. If we spend the whole time worrying about the “rigid tour” of the future, we miss the “spatial sounds” and the “sensory labs” of the now.
My eight trips to Disney taught me a lesson I didn’t realize I was learning until my senior year: the magic only works if you’re present for it. You can’t truly enjoy the grand finale of the fireworks if you’re already stressing about the long bus line back to the hotel. You can’t feel the rush of the drop on a coaster if you’re only thinking about what ride comes next. The same logic applies to these hallways.
If high school is just a figment of time, then we have to stop treating it like a weight we have to carry and start treating it like the experience it is. For four years, we are told to build our resumes, to look toward the next pavilion, and to prepare for a real world that hasn’t arrived yet. But in that constant rush toward the future, we risk turning our actual lives into a blur. We spend so much time worrying about our expectations that we forget to enjoy the one little spark of our reality.
The truth is, the only things that actually carry weight when the ride comes to a stop are how we treated the people around us and how much we allowed ourselves to enjoy the now. The grades on the transcripts and the scores on the mats will eventually fade into the background, becoming part of the past. What remains are the moments of genuine connection—the laughter in the cafeteria, the shared nerves before a big game, and the friendships that made high school bearable.
As I trade in my cheer shoes and red lipstick for a cap and gown, I’m keeping my Figment socks on as a permanent reminder. I’m choosing to leave the anxiety behind and focus on the fireworks happening right in front of me. High school was a beautiful, chaotic, and fleeting figment of my imagination—a brief chapter that felt like a lifetime while it lasted. But the life we are living at this very second? That’s the real journey.
I might be moving on from this park, but I’m taking the imagination, the memories, and that well-worn Figment with me. Because even if time is a figment, the way we spend it is everything.
