you and i

The left arrow key on this keyboard is giving out.
I had to start somewhere, hi!
Happy belated Valentines day. Guess what? I'm thirteen! Happy belated birthday to me.
Right now I'm writing a story about a teenage girl. I won't give the rest away, except for the fact that she thinks she only has one more year to live. It's in a rough, rough, state.

The rest of today's post is going to be rather small because it's deep and embarrassing.

So everybody, I know what high school I'm going to. It's been a weird couple of weeks. 
I'm really happy that I'm graduating, leaving this nest. But I guess that this couple of weeks I've realized that everybody I see everyday is going to be saying goodbye to each other, everybody I've built my childhood upon, every morning I've spent learning with these people, it's all going to be parting ways. We'll have to start again at the bottom of another school, the majority of us never going to see the other half again. I'll have to part with one of my best friends, and blog, I'm so scared. 
I like my life at this elementary school. I've taken it for granted before but I'm terrified of saying goodbye to it. It's a second home to me, literally. It's my life right now, my very instance. Most of what I do is there. Most of what I've done is there. I've practically lived there. Now I'm expected to pack my bags and try again somewhere else. 

I got into my first choice of high schools - a fine arts school. I got accepted for drama. I didn't get to celebrate because I was sick. But my mom woke me up with the good news, and it was all I needed. 

Sometimes I'm worried that I'm going crazy, because I get home-sick. At home. I'll cry over memories from last week. Hell, I'll cry over memories from yesterday. Good or bad. Sometimes it makes me feel like I'm going insane. Yesterday, last month in a half, four months ago. Whatever it is, I'll cry. I don't know why. Maybe because I'm counting down my days until I graduate and I'm just bracing myself for the big goodbye in June. 

The memories that I cry most about are from last summer of 2012. Everything was so perfect. I don't know why it was. I was unconditionally happy. The only things that mattered were in the moment. I was sane, it was beautiful. I'm worried that nothing will ever be as close to perfect as that again. My throat closes up, my tears start to string. I close my bedroom door and just let them fall. Like I was born to remember.    

1 comment:

  1. Wow. that was really beautiful <3 <3

    Also, I nominated ya for the versatile blog award. yeah. here's the post: http://worsensordoesnotimprove.blogspot.com/2013/05/we-are-versatile-bloggers-111111.html