The Pina Colada Years

Senior year has quietly gotten out of bed and softly picked up the strewn clothes of the past year from the floor. She has tiptoed down the halls of high school and is letting herself out the front door, making sure not to close it too hard.

High school is a breath away from over. None of us have realised that she has left. We all seem to be sleeping next to her indentation and the smell of perfume on the pillow.

I look back and think about that first day when a young catholic school girl got tossed into the blender of 2000 living, breathing, public school souls.

How things have happened. Even scrolling through the pages of lunchbox, the youth which peaks out from photos of volleyball and times with lovely and girls and Rashka astounds me.

I have had my heart broken twice. I have broken a heart once. I've laughed, cried, screamed, dropped myself off into the depths of anonymity and thrown myself upon the stage in front of curious eyes. I've passed, failed, gossiped, shredded friendships, forged new ones, learned the ugly side of numerous people, and found the beautiful side of more.

I know that in a few days I will reach my arm across for the senior year that isn't there. I will wake up clutching the pillow and memory of an amazing four years.

Lovely was right. It is the best time of your life so far. I remember one of the evenings when he walked me home and explained what was in store for the next four years.

Yes, part of me wants to rip apart her pictures and erase her number. The tests, the disappointments, the viciousness that high school can thrust upon the personality of a soul.

And yet, she leaves me wanting more. High school will never exist again.

It was phenomenal and challenging and it has pushed me to a place where I am almost comfortable with the craziness inside of me.

She's almost gone, but I will never forget her.

And sometimes, thats the best thing of all.