Does anyone round here even remember me any more? I’ve been gone for an age — too long, honestly –, but exams and commitments left me with no choice but to put blogging to one side, at least whilst school finishes up. Still, I’m stopping by to see how you’re all doing — how are you all doing?
I also have the feels right now; my emotions are all over the place, and we all know that an emotional 16-year-old boy is pretty much the recipe to a cracking blog post, don’t we now?
Quick side note: If you get a sec, go check out the song Nothing to Regret by Robinson: it’s a jam and kinda feels like my vibe at the moment. And yes I just referred to ‘my vibe’, I worry myself too sometimes.
Earlier in the year, as I rounded the final corner and caught sight of the suddenly-very-real GCSE exams (which I’m now midway through), I realised how things have changed. I realised how my perspective on — well, everything — has morphed into something almost unrecognisable, even compared with just a year or two ago. Feelings are weird things: the drug we’re all hooked on, the highs — and the lows — that we all know, all believe in whole-heartedly, and yet all know is insincere and terrifyingly temporary. I wrote about those feelings, and how confused they make me. It’s easier to live in the moment; comparing thoughts, feelings and ambitions of today from those of yesteryear is always going to result in confusion and a complete lack of understanding.
In September, I’m moving. I’m leaving home, living at college almost 200 miles away, and I’m excited. Of course I am: I love opportunity, chance, and the ability to grab whatever chance comes my way. I can’t wait to see where this new environment, new group of people and new setting take me — I really can’t.
But it’s not as easy as i honestly thought it would be. And that ‘s becoming more and more apparent with every passing moment, with every step that this huge new start takes towards me. Oh, how I thought it’d be easy; how I naively thought that nothing of myself feels at home here.
I try not to talk about it too much on this blog, but I’ve definitely mentioned, albeit in passing, that school this year has been a bit of a living nightmare for me. It’s a complex situation, but it boils down to a lack of support — and funding for said support — in the placement I’m in at the moment. It sucks, especially in my GCSE year, but sadly it’s an all-too-familiar story up and down the country. This lack of support, along with a couple of other factors, led to my decision to move to a different college, with more specialist support, enabling me to complete my A Levels and university preparations without the unwanted stress of a support battle on my hands.
Regardless, this issue has unfortunately led me to really dislike school this year; i’ve found it really difficult to cope, and to not lose my cool, or my stability. It’s a shame, really, as the first four years of secondary school were such happy times, filled with laughs and smiles, days of freedom and enjoyment. Why is it only now, then, as I am preparing to say my very final goodbyes, that these memories come flooding back?
Saying goodbye to a good teacher is difficult; it’s always virtually impossible to express how appreciative you are of all they’ve done, and how lucky you feel to have had them teach you. But we all get through it, because times change — it’s tough, but it’s OK.
Saying goodbye to staff who have worked closely with me, supporting me throughout my time at the school — all five years of it — is harder. Not impossible, no, but definitely harder. “Thank you” isn’t enough, because some of these people have gone the extra mile time and time again, just to make sure that I have access, and that things are as good for me as they possibly can be. “Thank you” doesn’t cut it, because five years is a long time, and I need to say something more.
Saying goodbye to friends is breaking me.
What do you say? What do you say to someone who has been there for you since the beginning? What do you say to someone who is always on your side? What do you say to someone who cares, and makes it known; who listens, and means it; who you can share ups and downs with, the good and the bad?
What do you say to someone who you don’t want to leave behind? What do you say?
I know things are going to change. I know that a friendship maintained through face-to-face communication day in, day out can never be upheld in quite the same way when one of you is no longer there. I know that. But I wish I didn’t, because it’s making my heart ache and my head hurt and my stomach feel sick.
I need to leave, to do what’s right for me. And, of course, that’s what I want to do: that’s why i chose this, and I don’t regret it — not at all. But I can’t help but feel … sad.
What a shit word sad is. Sad — three letters that try, and dismally fail, to summarise the feelings, the thoughts and emotions that flood my body like a tidal wave every time I look at my calendar and see 8th September marked ‘Moving Day’. What a pathetic little word sad is; and yet, I have nothing better. I could write endless words, paragraphs and pages and books filled with words, and yet the best one I have — the only one that can come close to how I honestly, truly feel — is sad.
If this is what moving on feels like, I suppose I should get used to it. It’s going to happen again, after college, and then at university, and then after my first, second, third job. It’s going to happen in a relationship, or when one of my best friends takes a chance on that dream job, and disappears. Of course I want to hang on to now: now is so familiar, and hence so perfect, and so good. But, I guess, I have to believe that tomorrow is better, that tomorrow brings smiles and hopes and dreams, but also that today can be a part of tomorrow, acting as the foundations for all of my tomorrows. That way, i’m not letting go, not moving on. I’m bringing today — and all of the memories, thoughts, people, places and feelings — with me, into tomorrow, and beyond.