Coming into the 12th grade, I wasn’t prepared. Logically, I knew that it was my last year in my alma mater and I had to make use of it, but the implications of that fact never really made their mark in my brain.
Nobody really tells you about the confusion you face once you get to your last year. One would think that because it is the final year, people would be itching to leave, excitedly saying goodbye to the school they had been so eagerly yearning to escape for the past 15 years of their lives. The wishes you once made in your adolescence to have no classes while keeping a close watch on #WalangPasok on Twitter—which is finally coming true, albeit forever. However, why does it not feel right? Now that it’s finally here, why do feelings of dread and regret arise?
The feeling is similar to that of a time bomb ticking while life still goes on around you. Tick, tick, tick. Everything moves on normally. Nothing changes. Life still runs its normal course as you meet up with friends, do assignments, and fall asleep at lectures. However, despite how fun and sunshiney all of this may seem, it’s as if there is an expiry date obnoxiously branded onto everything, reminding you that in just a few months’ time, the routine you’ve been so carefully upholding will end. A countdown ticking softly but there nevertheless, numbering the months, the weeks, the days until you’re forced to change.
The friends you’ve made and the community that you’ve shared will no longer greet you as you walk through the school doors. The ever-so-familiar ates and kuyas, some of whom have literally watched you grow, will no longer be there to rely on when you need them. The familiar matching green seats and chairs will no longer be there for you to study, chika, sleep, and eat on. Most of all, the memory-filled halls and classrooms you’ve lived in for the majority of your life will no longer be your second home. Humans are accustomed to familiarity and patterns. Maybe that’s why the thought of breaking this overdue habit fills our stomachs with dread.
You would be saying goodbye to the 35-peso shark’s fin siomai that you would look forward to eating during breaks.
You would be saying goodbye to the student lounge that became your favorite tambayan in school, along with the yellow rattan chair that was so comfortable to sit on.
You would be saying goodbye to the multi-functional seventh-floor gym that has housed countless monumental events in your life: the annual intramurals, school fairs, and so many more.
You would be saying goodbye to the teachers that have helped you grow and nurtured you as you matured through all phases of your life.
Most of all, you would be saying goodbye to the friends who became family—friends who will no longer be there for you daily. The very same people who have been with you throughout every episode of your life—whether good or bad. These faces, voices, and personalities you know like the back of your hand will not be the same people you will experience life’s milestones with anymore.
Life will be filled with responsibility now, and the menial problems that once plagued you, such as which restaurant in Uptown to eat at or whether you have any missed requirements, would be out of the question. You would be filled with bigger and more important problems. Ones that actually bear a little bit more weight on your life.
Graduating feels like an eternity of gradwaiting. Maybe it’s the senioritis speaking, but the whole year feels like the awkward phase wherein you know that things are about to change but the delay makes it feel as though you are stuck in jello, suspended in time. During the last year of your high school life, you are forced to search for colleges to apply to. It’s like trying to read the next chapter of a book while reading the previous and current chapters at the same time. You are looking at ways to start and prepare for the new chapter in your life all while trying to make sense of what is even happening in the present one.
Coming to the end of my 12th and final grade, I’m still not prepared. I’m still not ready to open the shiny and much-awaited door that is college and leave the home that I had for years. I’m still not prepared to calmly bid the memories goodbye and let go of the meticulously-kept ritual that I’ve religiously followed for years and years on end. But the clock still ticks and I am left with no other option but to face forward and keep moving on.
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