Moments of Memory

After six years of partial closeness for the majority of a large group of tight knit subgroups, the time of parting comes.

While some of us waited this day for god knows how long, others realise that the best years of our lives have just flown by us and we never even blinked.

Some of us wish that we’d taken a chance to know others better, but you know what?

Times up.

But that’s ok; we’ve all had our moments with each other.

The memories will be enough to last, even if they’re not always good memories, in which case, maybe you’re better off not remembering.

But having something is better than having nothing, and we’ll all have left footprints in someone’s cement path or graffiti on someone’s wall.

If you don’t think you’ve done that, then you gotta know I’m being all sentimental and symbolic right now.

So whether you’re a bunch of girls crying together in the toilets, taking up a whole lotta room; or a couple of guys kicking around the football one last time together;

you all know that after today our world has ended.

So you’re allowed to cry all you want, yell all you want, be as stupid as you want providing you or anyone else doesn’t get killed, hurt is ok, but not killed.

But you’re not allowed to spend it alone, because there’ll be plenty of time for that, and only today left to do whatever shit.

There is nothing as shocking as looking back at the school, and realising, ‘this is the last time’ because, for the first time, the finality of it all hits you, and this time, you’re old enough to really feel what that means.

Primary school isn’t anything like this.

Six years of protection, of good times and bad times to be forgotten, of laughs and tears but more of laughs, of war and alliances.

We only ever remember in moments.

Some will be lost in time, like tears in the rain.

But footprints in cement don’t get washed away.

The council is too lazy.