The Beginnings of the Last?

You know you’re near the end when you start talking about the last. For me, the end is school.
I’m down to my last essay, my last final, and my last performance in piano class. It’s the point where I’m not completely finished, but close enough to start slacking off really bad.
Sigh, the endings always give me a sort of regretful feeling. I really dislike my fear of letting go or having something be finished with. Which is weird because I don’t have anything in particular that I’m leaving behind this school year. Or maybe I’m just starting to realize that I do. The small things like sometimes seeing people I know in the library during lunch who I’ll talk to or having class with people who I know I won’t see again next year. It seems foolish to miss things like this since they’re not really that special or anything. Most of these people are basically strangers after all. It seems that the simplest of daily events are the ones that I’ll miss. I start saying things like, this is the last time I’ll sit in this chair and talk to this person across from me or this is the last time I’ll walk to school at a time like this.
I don’t like saying things like “last” because it seems so definite. Like no matter what you do, there’s nothing you can do about it.
But I’m down to my last essay that’s due tomorrow. Might as well make it the best since it’s the last one for this year.


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