Cesca says I bobble when I run. Mandy says I look like an eight year old. So, I the bobbling eight year old, do hereby decide that I will avoid running.
In other news, the world as I know it is coming to an end. Well, no, it's not, but it's going on a three-month hiatus, and when it returns, it will undoubtedly be different. Or perhaps it is I who will be different and will cause the rest of it to be. But, in any event, the world is ending. But it will be replaced with another, similar one upon my return. I'm going to miss this place. It hasn't really struck me yet that school's over. I mean, yeah, finals. But the reallytrulylearning part, that's over. I'll never have another western civ class. Maybe never another class with Mark or Kitty or Andrew. Never another period of sitting with my entire class (as in, all the sophomores) not-listening to the lecture. Next year we don't have gang. Never being a sophomore again. Half of high school is over. Which means, half of life as a student, because I've had ten years before this and I'll probably have ten years after. Two more here. Four at some college or other. Three/four more getting degrees. That's ten. And, k-ten with one skipped, that's ten. Half and half. I'm thinking it's going too fast. I'm thinking I'm going to miss everybody. I'm thinking, I want finals to be over so I can get on that train and go home. I'm thinking, I want to stay. I don't know what I'm thinking. I don't know how I'm feeling. Kind of scared.
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