Oh we’re such beautiful people, even our own noses fascinate us. I’m going to make everyone pull that face, take a photo and make a collage to celebrate the end of year 12. And then blackmail everyone in it 10 years later when they’re all filthy stinkin’ rich lawyers/doctors/accountants/actors/actresses/marine biologists/pharmacists/horticulturalists/deadbeats that won the lottery/one-hit wonders.
Dear Year 12,
5 more days. 5 more days and the relationship is over. 25 more days till I can claim my life back from the front office ladies I abhor so much. We need your card before we give you your life back. Well guess what, I won’t be needing my student ID anymore and I certainly will not have to wait in line for 5 minutes when I’m the only one in line. Hah, goodbye. Anyway, even though you have stolen my precious shut-eye moments, taught me what disappointment really means, permanently tattooed eyebags beneath half-shut eyes, thinning eyelashes and fatigued gaze, introduced me to this strange elixir(that only works for 3 hours) known as V, increased my dependence on caffeine, induced an aversion to technology and its wirey digital friends, turned me into a textbook-eater and reinforced my obsession with good quality stationery, I still will kind of miss you. I’ll miss the friends, the laughter until our tummies hurt and we couldn’t breathe, the private jokes, the singing in class and annoying the teacher, the eating while we highlight our notes, the scribbling and doodling on a classmate’s book, the that’s what she said jokes in Physics and Chemistry, the Mr LeCornu’s epic demonstration of a flagella on a sperm, the drawing vampire hickeys on the sleeping person in class, the yodelling when we’re supposed to be doing our pracs, the lame pick-up lines, the really really bad till they were funny jokes, the lying on the oval avoiding homework, the long deep talks on the bus and during frees, the taking photos with inanimate objects around school, the walking through town barefoot on formal night, the planning to take down the hard-hearted campus head, the boring aimless SRC lunchtime meetings, the prayeries that ended up with us moshing to Parlez Vous Francais, the intense prayeries that united us, the study sessions, the awkward moments with the incredibly awkward CPSW, the Mr Carter going red in the face when he accidentally drew boobs when he was meant to draw atoms, Mr Godden never handing back our essays, Mr Fahim and his UNGA, the waiting at the deserted bus stop after tests, the telling people who were complaining after tests to shut up, the dancing to the Wombats at the bus stop and the many other interesting, endearing moments that made this year a laugh and a half. Make that a laugh and 5 halves that strangle my tummy like a snake strangling a donkey, a la The Swiss Family Robinson. I loved that book.
Thank you, for giving me a reason to open up and find some amazing people I wouldn’t usually hang out with.Thank you, for new friends and old that make me smile on the hardest days and believed in me even when I couldn’t believe in myself. Thank you, for teaching me that procrastination never pays off. Thank you, for showing me that coffee has the ability to put me to sleep. Thank you, for teaching me that sometimes, grades aren’t everything and passion gets you through the year and that I would have hated English Comms, even if I did do alot better than I’m doing now in English Studies. Thank you, for concrete evidence that further reinforces my decision to never, EVER become a high-school teacher. Above all, thank you for showing me that God is faithful, even in sucky circumstances and in the face of scary things like the UMAT and getting a C on a test.
I would like to point out, however, that I never want anything to do with you again. You’re like the Sec 2 Adventure Camp we went on; feral, disgusting, complete lack of a proper sewage system, flies in my food, mud fights, bonding with team members, great memories but best left in the past. Emphasis on the complete lack of a proper sewage system; remember those days when the water pipe burst, the toilets couldn’t flush for 2 days and everyone had to be sent home because no one could get rid of the poo in the loo? Yeah. You get the point.
Love, Cheryl, your over-caffeinated, sleep-deprived, Physics-textbook-dating, life-deficient, over-eating, soon-to-be-free owl of a student. Mwa mwa.
P.S. I have a record player. Oh snap. I have a record player and all I can do now is pretend to be a DJ and spin my 50-cent The Sound of Music record. Yodel-zip-yodel-zip-yodel-zipppp.
