Three years.

It has been three years since I first walked into room 139.

Within those three years, I have had to say goodbye to far too many people.

And, once again, I have found myself crying tears for people that I have met, loved, and lost, all in the same room.

We spent the afternoon reminiscing on the past months and years. We ate cake and opened gifts. We all laughed and cried as Mr. George gave his annual speech to the graduates. We hugged some more, we cried some more. We took pictures with our tear-stained faces so that we can look back on this day and remember the humans we met, loved, and lost in a room we will never forget.

And then, it was all over.

We then went home with a lingering pit in our stomachs, thinking about how when we go to school the next day, none of them will be there to indulge in our antics. We went home thinking about how the absence of seven people will make the room feel barren. And then, the next day, we went to school and lived through the reality we so dreaded the day before.

Love is painful.

But sometimes, it is a good kind of pain.

I am only hurting because of how good it has been the past few years. I am only hurting because I know that I am never going to have this again. I am only hurting because my heart is so full of love for the people that are bidding their farewells.

I wouldn’t be struggling so much to let go if I didn’t have one of the best years of my life with these people.

Every year, it becomes more and more difficult for me to siphon the words to explain how it feels. That this is the last year I will be saying goodbye to seniors rather than me being the senior saying goodbye.

It’s strange, this concept of time. 

I find it strange that for the past three years, I told myself I had plenty of time with those who surrounded me, and now it has been pared down to the final moments. Time is a thief. It has stolen what I used to be rich with, but now, I scourge the streets in hopes that I find just a little more to last me until tomorrow. 

Yes, I am letting the dramatics of my emotional disposition shine through. While I do plenty of that in person—as is expected—there are some aspects of your departure that I can’t form off the tip of my tongue but rather through my fingers that dash across the keyboard in urgency.

Time is my worst enemy.

It always has been. I continuously look back at everything it has taken away from me, wishing that I had fought a little harder to keep them around longer.

I will forever wish I had fought for you all to stay. I will forever wish I had made a bargain with Time to turn a little slower. I wish I could start this year from the beginning again and make each hug we shared a little tighter and each laugh we had a little louder.

You are all the reason why this year has been my favorite, and I will never forgive Time for making me say goodbye.