In the final weeks of senior year I countdown the days till I am free from the restraint of the education system. In all the excitement and nerves I can’t help but feel this may be the only time in my life with an end date. May 19, graduation, a piece of paper officially stated. Then nothing.
I only hope that in my death I might have some advanced knowledge. An end date. To prepare with anticipatory grief.
I wonder who around me got that chance.
In a sense I have anticipatory grief now knowing that I will no longer be classified a student, but an alumnus of the education system. A form of proof in a time of questions. Will it even matter? Has all of it been a waste? I would have probably been happier and onto something by now if I hadn’t.
Or worse…
This feels like the end of something and the beyond is unknown.
I see it coming, accepting it, anticipating it.
Then what?
Walking down through the rows names and dates is all there is. My life compressed between two dates. For right now I only know the first digits, representing a birth I don’t even remember.
The rest
Unknown.
Do I even wish to rest here?! This place seems to be a prison of graves row after row.
Nearing sunset, the shadows of each stone stretch through the grass as the sun creeps down. Projecting a dark elongated torso with no head.
Every glance is a reminder; the grim proximity of death.
As graduation is nearing closer,
The death of formal education,
The birth of uncapped freedom.
