• Ah, how the minutes drizzle on. I remove my hat and tie my hair back into a messy brown bun, strange how much it has grown in the past two years. Now when I let it tumble down, it splays across my back and upon both sides of my chest. How I remember when I could first touch it to my shoulders, and when I could first put my bangs in my mouth. And way, way back in the day, when it became too long to gel into spikes. It has been 5 years now, and my hair has gone from very short to very long. I can remember highschool. I remember it like a dream, one which I know that I had, however many nights ago, but so vaguely, oh so blurry, faces of my friends seem to melt into one another, though their names still ring perfectly clear. So long ago does it seem, but still can I recall the feeling that arose in my chest when I would wake, knowing that I had to be there, knowing I had to go to school. I would shower, if I felt I should, dress myself to look good, as I thought, make my hair look presentable, from the spikes of freshman year to the straightened style that layed across my right eye in sophomore year to the hippy jesus mane that I put back, junior year, and to the longer version of this, plus my hat, of senior year. I changed every year, less and less as they rolled along. I remember the classes, the worksheets, the essays, the videos, I remember the girls, the beautiful, the sweet, the unnoticed. I remember, I remember, I remember... It just seems like another lifetime for it has now passed, and means nothing to me now. It is just memories. God, I am glad that it is over, for now I am only myself, and not one of so many, but lord, do I miss it, the sheer simplicity, the wonderous ease, even the stomach sickening stress... It was all so comfortable, familiar, routine... Let me tell you, once highschool is through, it only gets harder. Exciting, of course, but scary, difficult, serious. It's even more overwhelming than it was, for you are no one in the world outside the walls, at least until you make a name for yourself. And this, I'm finding, is a long process. Man, I miss it, but I know it's right that I am done with it. 4 years is all you get. I have reached the next level. But I'll always remember what it felt like to be a kid. And I'll always be grateful, because at the very least, I got to. Pain is necessary for us to grow. It tears us apart inside, so that we can put the pieces back together as we go along. The pain never stops, it only changes, and happens in different ways.

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