Meg Jain, Grade 12
UWCSEA (East)
Dear Senior Year,
I still do not know how you arrived so quickly. How did the end suddenly come into sight when I can still remember like yesterday, wearing my white shirt for the first time. Was I not just looking for a prom dress? Was I not just planning project week? Was it not yesterday I was frantically studying for my IOC? Was it not just now that we went to Wild Wild Wet? I could have sworn I just started. But in fact, it’s all over. You were finished just as quick as you started. It’s funny, if I had known this would be the case, I wouldn’t have missed a single day of school.
There were so many things that were meant to happen. Things that I worked for and wished for and dreamed of in the hardest days, in my worst hours. I wanted to hear my mentor say my full name, walk across the stage in my national dress and receive a piece of paper with my name on it encased in a leather folder. I wanted to have my school flag, and a single rose clutched in one hand as I walked past the students of all 11 grades below me. I wanted to hear the principal, as all 250 of us gathered in the centre of plaza, say “Here is your Class of 2020!” I wanted to have my uniform tie-dyed, to do my senior interview, to get dolled up for the evening celebration as I sat surrounded by closest friends and family. The people who made these past years that tiny bit easier. The people who were a ray of hope in my despair. It feels as though I have been walking towards one light in the far distance for years, falling, tripping, scraping every part of me along the way, and now that I have reached the light – it’s gone. And now I am standing amongst my classmates wondering where our guiding light has gone, and why all we are left with is a fog of uncertainty.
I’ve wondered “why me?”, “why us?”, “why now?”. I’ve wondered what I did to deserve this. I’ve cried and I’ve screamed. Now that you’ve been taken away without a proper goodbye, I’ve been forced to reflect on these moments that passed without a second thought. The moments more significant than that one test, or that homework assignment I didn’t do. The inside jokes, the deep conversations, the late-night Skype calls, the times we were laughing so hard we couldn’t breathe. I suppose that is what this year was all about. The love and laughter that existed in the shadows of the academics.
I still do not know how you arrived so quickly. How did the end suddenly come into sight when I can still remember like yesterday, wearing my white shirt for the first time. Was I not just looking for a prom dress? Was I not just planning project week? Was it not yesterday I was frantically studying for my IOC? Was it not just now that we went to Wild Wild Wet? I could have sworn I just started. But in fact, it’s all over. You were finished just as quick as you started. It’s funny, if I had known this would be the case, I wouldn’t have missed a single day of school.
There were so many things that were meant to happen. Things that I worked for and wished for and dreamed of in the hardest days, in my worst hours. I wanted to hear my mentor say my full name, walk across the stage in my national dress and receive a piece of paper with my name on it encased in a leather folder. I wanted to have my school flag, and a single rose clutched in one hand as I walked past the students of all 11 grades below me. I wanted to hear the principal, as all 250 of us gathered in the centre of plaza, say “Here is your Class of 2020!” I wanted to have my uniform tie-dyed, to do my senior interview, to get dolled up for the evening celebration as I sat surrounded by closest friends and family. The people who made these past years that tiny bit easier. The people who were a ray of hope in my despair. It feels as though I have been walking towards one light in the far distance for years, falling, tripping, scraping every part of me along the way, and now that I have reached the light – it’s gone. And now I am standing amongst my classmates wondering where our guiding light has gone, and why all we are left with is a fog of uncertainty.
I’ve wondered “why me?”, “why us?”, “why now?”. I’ve wondered what I did to deserve this. I’ve cried and I’ve screamed. Now that you’ve been taken away without a proper goodbye, I’ve been forced to reflect on these moments that passed without a second thought. The moments more significant than that one test, or that homework assignment I didn’t do. The inside jokes, the deep conversations, the late-night Skype calls, the times we were laughing so hard we couldn’t breathe. I suppose that is what this year was all about. The love and laughter that existed in the shadows of the academics.
Guest Writer |
I’m angry, sad and carrying an overbearing sense of loss. I long for nothing more than to sit in the canteen with my friends and talk about our day, share stories and make plans. I long for nothing more than for everything to go back to the way they were, to do everything I was meant to do. But with all the uncertainty, I know for certain that all I wish for can not come true. Maybe we don’t get the celebration that we desired, that we deserved. Maybe all I can do is thank my stars for giving me the most loving, caring friends, who made what we had of senior year, worth every second. Maybe that’s the legacy we leave behind. And maybe that’s enough.
Senior year, you have been my greatest achievement so far. And my biggest loss. Senior year, thank you for everything. Love, A girl different to the one you first met. |