And I feel like I should remove my mortarboard hat from my cupboard, stamped with 19326, leaning against my graduation book, the final pages of which have been scrawled with countless signatures of people who begin to desist the stake they held in my life. Through a forcibly 35 hours spent together for around 27 weeks a year, the group of 224 individuals have left a characteristic impression on me. Something that cannot be illustrated in words but visible in behaviour, in the manner of my speech, improvements in my volleyball skills, and even the way I approach challenges and difficult with a little less fear and more support. The influence lingers beyond memories, but in the quiet confidence insured in me over the years. I miss the triple science lessons with laughter and no work being done, math lessons with endless banter and doing anything but computer science during computer science lessons. It's impossible not to feel these twinges of sadness like thorns pricking into my hands whenever I open my wardrobe.
But is the solution to empty my wardrobe of what I hold dear? Leaving it devoid of connection, prioritizing only function.