This all feels too final and mature and-
Yes. So today I had my last French lesson. EVER. And truth be told, I spent the majority of the lesson staring off into space, with a dull ache in my chest. To be quite honest, I couldn't get my head around that fact - that I'd never be in that classroom again, writing notes, doodling 'Bones' doodles or sharing looks of despair/frustration with starfishyfish , in that chair that is second from the front of the teachers desk. It made me feel rather sad.
And I have to admit, as much as I have hated (well, not hated. That is a very strong word, after all. But you get the gist) french lessons, finding them tedious, and being taught either by a FAILwoman (Mrs. Fulford) or an absolute nutcase (Mrs. Casey - who is really nice, despite the whole maniac business) - I simply cannot imagine not ever seeing them again or being taught by them. Same goes for everything else - seeing friends/peers/teachers/classrooms...
Though I am reluctant to admit it, this school, with it's flailing staff and tiresome regime of studystudystudy, is a small, cosy and safe environment that I - now faced with the daunting prospect of starting life as an adult oh shit in the real, BIG and SCARY world - want to still be a part of. Well, to some extent, anyway.
What I find really heartbreaking is that after thursday, after exams, after results day, I will not see the majority of these familiar, mosty likeable faces ever again. They will become distant memories, ones that when remembered decades from now if I survive that long will make me smile fondly, but I will never be able to re-experience them again.
Last summer, whilst organising the house in Spain, my mum came across her leavers book from her school, and was showing it to me, pointing at pictures of her old classmates and teachers. From time to time I would stop her and aske her if she knew where they were/what they were doing now, and the majority of her answers were 'no'. Many of her teachers - which appeared young in the photos and whom she had liked - had passed away. Today, I remembered this event during French. When I am fifty or sixty, it is very likely that these reasurring (albeit sometimes fucking annoying) faces will be no more. Mr. Bennett and his strange mannerisms will be gone, Mrs. Benson and her happiness will be gone. Even Fulf (whom I cannot stand) will be gone.
And even when they are gone, I will still imagine them as they were today. The same goes for peers. I will have a single photo of each one - a moment in time - and for me, they will never age. Perhaps, when I am older, when meeting with an old friend - they will ask me 'gosh, do you remember so-and-so?' And I will remember them, picturing their face when they were eighteen, but knowing that at that current moment in time they are now completely different.
I know it isn't possible for me to keep in touch with everyone, no matter how much we tell each other otherwise, gradually, many people will begin to float away and immerse themselves in their new lives.
Gah, I dunno. Sorry for sounding so awfully angsty. I just feel really...ugh. Conflicted, I guess. Because I just can't wait to move on, and see what my new life will be like.
I guess only time will tell, right?