My, how the time flies.

My 10-year high school class reunion is this weekend. I'm not going. Let's back up. I never thought we'd even have one. I think our "5-year reunion" was that time 13 people from my class showed up at a bar in town and called it our 5-year reunion, after the fact. Please note: there were almost 400 people in my graduating class. That's a math problem.

In high school we all have big dreams of where we'll be in 10 years, so the idea of a 10-year reunion seems magical. WOW. We'll be married with white picket fences and kids and houses and careers. To be fair, many of the people from my class probably have that. I am not one of those people. Obviously.

I don't think I realized 10 years ago that 28-year-old Krista would still feel like she was in high school sometimes. That the people who were her rock as a teenager would transition from "best friends forever" to simply Facebook friends. Most of our updates come in the form of Facebook statuses. I still care about these people, but life has evolved all of us. There are a handful of people from the Class of 2000 who have remained a part of my life. And just 10 years out of high school, those are the people with whom I have a real interest in connecting. The other 300-plus? Maybe in another 10 years when we've all grown a bit more. When we have more life in us.

All of that? That was my original reason for not having an interest in the 10-year reunion. We're all still the same. Who wants to reminisce high school when we're all still a part of it? Etc. Etc. But the real, honest reason is because I was embarrassed. Dead-end job, at the time,  living in a studio, fallen from journalism-grace. No family of my own, no house, a couple of cats, no plus-one. I didn't think people would look past that to see who I've become since high school graduation - talented writer, college graduate, marathon runner. I'm enriched daily by the amazing people I've come across since driving away from Beloit, Wis. I've had experiences - both great and awful - that have shaped me. I'm proud, but the scared teenager inside me is still in high school. Worried about judgement. Rumors.

Is that Krista over there? Alone? Didn't she get married once? Wait, I heard she works in a call center. At Allstate. I thought she went to school for journalism? Where is she even living now? Did you hear about that one time? Well, hell, at least she didn't get fat.

OK, whatever, I made up that last bit. But you get the idea. And honestly, it's silly. All of it. The only reason I'm even worrying about any of it is because it is high school. And I don't want to go back. I don't want to worry about those things. To the people who are in my life today, none of that matters. And to be honest, it probably doesn't matter to the class of 2000, either. But it's my own internal struggle.

I'm not where I thought I'd be 10 years after high school. I'm OK with that, but I don't want to spend a weekend justifying it to people whose maiden names I don't remember. They don't know me. I could impress them today with, "Oh, I'm an account executive with an ad agency. Just finished my 7th marathon. Met Barack Obama once."

But all of that is silly, too. Just as much as I don't want to admit my not-so-proud moments, I don't want to spend the night spewing big words and accomplishments to impress people whose last memory of me was signing my senior yearbook.

I am who I am, and they'll see me in another 10 years.