The prison I was locked up in everyday, that I committed various crimes in including making excuses about homework and venturing into the boys bathroom, has now taken on an odd degree of sentimental value. 20 days remain of my four year high school career and it's bittersweet.
Am I really ready to go "out there" without the guidance of parents and teachers, I think as I glimpse a peak of the outside world from my classroom window. Could all the tests I frantically crammed for and failed, and all the ones I passed in flying colors, possibly prepare me for this moment?
I think back to my home life where I still sleep with multiple teddy bears. "Do they accept teddy bears in the real world?" I wonder. I picture a harsh faced professor ripping my precious bears in half and stomping on their fluffy guts just to prove a point.
Maybe I'm not as ready as I think I am to leave high school. It's hard to picture me and the rest of the 2014 grad class, some who I've known back when they still had their chubby baby faces, becoming independent adults.
These people are the future, and it's a scary thought. Some of my classmates seem mature, totally prepared to leave high school, while others are still composing entire sentences out of swear words- something I find impressive in a repulsive sort of way.
Maybe we'll meet up in another city or town years from now, or at the 50 year high school reunion when walkers and wrinkles disguise the faces I once knew so well. Or maybe this is really goodbye, I think. Maybe heaven is our next meeting place.
Past these morbid thoughts there is excitement in me too. I know that snatching my diploma from our principal will signal not just the end of high school, but freedom. Next year I'll be off in a different province pursuing my dream of becoming a journalist, with the only parental supervision coming from my mom's superpower binoculars 17 hours away.
Freedom will also mean being who I want to be. "Hello my name is Melissa and I like to party" I imagine saying in an introduction to my new classmates, despite the fact that the only parties I've ever been to involve presents and birthday cake.
It's exhilarating knowing that 12 years of schooling have led up to this. A bunch of wide eyed kids, innocent yet not aware of it, being let out of Hampton High to start their own lives.
I want to hug everyone of the future grads, even the ones I've never said more than a few words too, and wish them all the best and to stay safe. But at the risk of looking like an idiot- or even worse, their mother, I don't.
Instead, I walk down the hallways of the school like I've done for the past four years, though with slightly more confidence than I had as a minor niner. "20 days," I think with a smile.
Am I really ready to go "out there" without the guidance of parents and teachers, I think as I glimpse a peak of the outside world from my classroom window. Could all the tests I frantically crammed for and failed, and all the ones I passed in flying colors, possibly prepare me for this moment?
I think back to my home life where I still sleep with multiple teddy bears. "Do they accept teddy bears in the real world?" I wonder. I picture a harsh faced professor ripping my precious bears in half and stomping on their fluffy guts just to prove a point.
Maybe I'm not as ready as I think I am to leave high school. It's hard to picture me and the rest of the 2014 grad class, some who I've known back when they still had their chubby baby faces, becoming independent adults.
These people are the future, and it's a scary thought. Some of my classmates seem mature, totally prepared to leave high school, while others are still composing entire sentences out of swear words- something I find impressive in a repulsive sort of way.
Maybe we'll meet up in another city or town years from now, or at the 50 year high school reunion when walkers and wrinkles disguise the faces I once knew so well. Or maybe this is really goodbye, I think. Maybe heaven is our next meeting place.
Past these morbid thoughts there is excitement in me too. I know that snatching my diploma from our principal will signal not just the end of high school, but freedom. Next year I'll be off in a different province pursuing my dream of becoming a journalist, with the only parental supervision coming from my mom's superpower binoculars 17 hours away.
Freedom will also mean being who I want to be. "Hello my name is Melissa and I like to party" I imagine saying in an introduction to my new classmates, despite the fact that the only parties I've ever been to involve presents and birthday cake.
It's exhilarating knowing that 12 years of schooling have led up to this. A bunch of wide eyed kids, innocent yet not aware of it, being let out of Hampton High to start their own lives.
I want to hug everyone of the future grads, even the ones I've never said more than a few words too, and wish them all the best and to stay safe. But at the risk of looking like an idiot- or even worse, their mother, I don't.
Instead, I walk down the hallways of the school like I've done for the past four years, though with slightly more confidence than I had as a minor niner. "20 days," I think with a smile.