Last day, last year ...

To the class of 2002, to the teachers that got us here, to all of those we leave behind ... see you around.

It feels somewhat anticlimatic. Just like any other day. I pretend to pay attention in English, nearly freak at a Calculus test (even though I _did_ end up passing), ace a band test, and doodle away in art.
It hasn't sunk in yet. I'm not going to ever do any of that the same way again. I'll never meet Jiggy for a ride to school in the mornings, detour to the library when we get there early, just to check on LJ and the Jar and RealLife and Yerf and stuff.
Even though we were never supposed to.
I mean, gods, the librarians would have a seizure if they knew how much paper I pirated off of them in the first month of classes alone. I was always such a librarian's pet. They never suspected me.
I'll never meander out of the library up to the stairway accross from the elevator, receive a static shock when I touch the bannister on the way up the only dark staircase in the school ... and the only one like really like, for that matter. Up the stairs, past the door to the roof, through the doors that had a broken lock for most of the second semester, down the hall, turn right, turn left, second locker on the inner side of the hallway. Open the locker (16-34-16), realize that I didn't need anything in my locker, stare at the pictures and scribbled notes on the door ...

"Hey Sarah! Just a note to tell you that Shit Happens! - Jiggy" (inside joke)
"Shit has come ...
Shit has flush-ed ...
Shit will come again!" (another inside joke)

The picture of chibified James scowling at us ... always making me grin, the charcoal sketch the I drew a few months back, framed on the corners with holographic smiley-faces, the place where the magnetic mirror _used_ to be, the photo of me, Dez, D-Rae, Sam, Bryn, and Jiggy when we all watched the Olympic Gold Medal Hockey Game, and the picture of james that I printed out so long ago ... Wwith Jiggy's scrawl of "James -> sexxxxyyyyyyy!" underneath. A fanart picture of Yohji from Weiss that I printed off, a fanart of Aya. And that's it. And then I'd head to class.

I'm writing all of this down so I won't forget. Some things seem to come out easier at a keyboard. I still feel so detatched from it all, but I don't know if I ever won't. I'm not emotionless, just ... not overly emotional.

I know I'll see people again. I'll stop in at the school with a box of donuts and interrupt a class for the Hell of it. I'll meet an old classmate for coffee or lunch sometime ... even though I don't drink coffee.

There's things that will fade, I know that. Most of it will. Perhaps it's supposed to.
Any of you who saw 'A Moving Song' will see the parallel.

I know a few friends who are having a movie party tonight. 'Requiem for a Dream', I think. Even though I'd like to know them better, I'm not going. It ... just doesn't fit for me. I prefer silent comtemplation to chipdip and mive philosophy most of the time. Doesn't mean that I don't feel. I just prefer to contemplate instead of celebrate, most of the time.

I still have two more exams to go, and I know they won't be very emotional. Hell, they hardly need effort. English reading comp is a breeze, and I technically don't need to pass Calculus in order to graduate. I won't get the Rutherford, most likely, but I'll graduate. All I have to do is return my textbooks.

And stand one more time in the echo spot in the Pit ...