This Really is the End

Two days ago I was feeling so done.  I was rushing to complete my final summatives, trying to find time to start studying, and being overloaded with stories of teenage drama that I was luckily able to stay out of. At that point I wanted nothing more than to be finished with school. 

And then yesterday it hit me: this really is in the end. 

One minute I was sitting at a table talking to my friends, and the next my head was spinning with a million questions.  How will I manage to pass my exams?  What if I don’t get a good job?  What if I loose all of my friends in my year off? 

And then I noticed the concerned looks on my friends faces.

I  started to get bombarded by questions, “are you okay? “, “whats wrong?” .  I quickly responded “yes” (that was a lie), but then I started to feel okay.  But that only lasted about half a second. So naturally, I did what any normal, mature person would do, and I ran.

Actually, I would call it more of a brisk walk.  I tried to physically run away from my overwhelming thoughts.  By the time I had walked half way around the school I realized that it is physically impossible to outrun your problems.

 Thats when I started to distract myself.  I started to listen in on grade nines conversations (it’s a past-time of mine).  And boy, are kids these days dry.  It made me laugh.  The try so hard to look and talk and act so cool.  And then I got to thinking “Hey!  I used to do that!”

I continued to walk around the school for the remainder of my final lunch break of high school, alone.  The way I will be walking a majority of my journeys from now on.  As I walked I reminsed on the lame, trivial conversations I had in these halls.  I remembered the time my friend jumped out of my locker and scared me silly, I remembered the time I used to get threatened with detention if I didn’t stop eating in the history stair well.  It seemed that with every wall, corner and fountain I had a memory of a person I tied to it.  As I passed classrooms I thought of how much I enjoyed conversations with that teacher, or how they always has funny bonus marks.  Memories clung to each surface and it felt like I was the only person aware of this. 

This walk began with me panting and sweating and trying not to cry, and ended with me smiling.

I have gained so much from my four years in high school.  I have a solid base, I’ve learned from the best people I have ever met, I’ve grow along side some of the most lively people I will ever meet, I am ready for the next step.

As I write this I sit in the place that I have kept myself hidden away during my spare periods for the past two years, the music office.  And I wait for my friends to finish their english exam.  I can hear my music teachers planning for next year.

 

Life here will go on without me.  So I must move on as well. 

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