May 21st.  The day my soul snapped in two like a carrot or something.  Today the seniors would be released. It was getting close to 6th period and I knew it would be the hardest class to get through ever. As I made my way to C lunch, my heart pounded. Is today really going to be the last day I ever see this classmate of mine? I walked past the cafeteria.  Duncan was telling two girls they should be in ILC. 

My legs felt like noodles as I nervously waited for C lunch to end. Meanwhile, I passed one of the graduating seniors, not the one that was going to blacken my soul for seven straight months, but I talked to this person occasionally in Art 2. We both had Johnson 1st period.

“What are you doing in the halls?” I asked.

“Its our last day, there’s not really much for seniors to do except roam the halls.”

I rolled my eyes at his comment.

Then again, I was a junior, I wasn’t sure what it felt like to finally be done, and only about an hour away from permanent release from this force they call high school.  I continued anxiously pacing the area around the cafeteria. I looked over at the table the band usually sat at.  It was half empty except for some other juniors.  Must be either wandering or visiting the band room for the last time.

It was now 12:15. I gulped.  A crowd of wiry kids ran past, crowding as usual, almost trampling my little sorry self. Time was not getting any slower, so I anxiously went upstairs to Exploratory. W228. Government. The room my soul would be killed and buried in. 

The laptop cart was there, indicating we would be working on our final project. I was too nervous to work, but I got a computer, opened my project on Microsoft Word, and at least acted like I had a clue and totally wasn’t worried about the future of one of the other students, and whether or not I would ever reconnect.

The teachers voice rang out, calling to us that the school year was coming to an end and our projects were due before he left for Apple training the last week of school.  Apparently they think teachers don’t know how to use laptops, but, being a student, that was none of my business.

Everybody was excited for the seniors. I wasn’t. I was the farthest thing from it. I was panicking on the inside. Why did it have to end like this? Why did I have to be separated for 7 months, possibly 20 years?  After that day, nothing I did would matter anymore. I was just Tatum Lannom. I was no longer me. What is life?  The struggle could not be more real.  It still is.

I will likely never forget that class, or one of the people in it. I try, but it left an unforgettable image in my brain. That’s why I have written this. All that’s left to say is when you left high school, my heart and soul did too.