I feel guilty for looking forward to the end of the school year. I feel guilty because I enjoyed this school year so much more than the past few, but I’ve let the stress of school distract me from that.
I feel guilty because I had no idea how much my life would change in just one year. When I was told that my life would change when I went to high school, I didn’t realize how much that was true. I’m only one year in, and I’m already leaving the school year with almost all new friends. I’m incredibly grateful for the old ones but so thankful for the new ones. Most of them, I didn’t even know at the beginning of this year. I had no idea they would be some of my best friends now.
I feel guilty for looking forward to the end of the school year because, at the end of this year, Mr. George will never be my teacher again. I’m afraid that once he’s gone, I won’t have that one hour of the day to look forward to anymore. I’m worried I won’t have a safe space to go when I need somewhere to go during school. Mr. George, I’ll miss you so much. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me this past year. You changed my life. Remember, just because you’re leaving doesn’t mean you’re going to get rid of us yet.
I’m worried that I’m going to be leaving Room 139 for the last time. I’m worried that next year, that won’t be our room anymore. I won’t be able to look around at the worn-in chairs and couches bought at countless numbers of garage sales, and I’ll no longer have my green and white plaid chair. I won’t walk through the door and immediately be met with the weird cardboard cutout of Leonardo DiCaprio, and I won’t have a smile on my face every single time Mr. George decides to take a lap around the hall just so he can walk through the streamers hanging down from the door.
I’m sad the school year is ending because I won’t have my little diary called The Central Trend until next year. I won’t be writing my stories on Google Docs with the font Bitter in size 12, because I don’t like the look of the Arial font. I won’t be checking my word count every other sentence wishing that I could be done writing. Now that it’s the end of the year, I feel bad for wishing all of the stories away. I feel bad for wishing all of the stories away because now, I only have three more years of writing.
I wish the school year would end. I wish it would end, but I hate that I wish it would end. I feel guilty for wanting it to end, and I don’t know what to do. Whether it’s good or bad, only three and a half more days.
