Hey, I know we still have about a week or two until this dang year is over. Though like last year, I know it will end almost indefinitely, and I regret that afterwards, there won’t be much worth remembering looking back. I am not sure if this is mostly on the part of myself, those around me, or those that weren’t around me; the ones who were just sort of passing by. Count myself guilty if ever I get lost in the echo.

I called these articles ramblings because they aren’t necessarily true. Nor do I believe that the thoughts and prose purely reflect my opinion and actual news. In the course of writing these articles, I struggled with how to write both sincerely and engagingly. All this time, it felt like I was talking to a wall; opaque and abstract without ever any indication if what I said passed through or were absorbed. Never did I have the expectations of reaching a wide audience. The only traces of reception I would get came only from my dad, to whom he believes this is all for his reading leisure, and from Denvir whenever I submit the material on Edmodo. I didn’t do this for fame. I didn’t do this because it was cool. I just liked it. Often, I wish that school would send me out with the same energy I get from attending a Sunday service. But no, instead I am left to my own devices in filling the empty void with mute a message of longing, aspiration, and sarcasm. Mostly sarcasm.

I don’t know what set me off. Was it the boy from last block that mocks my grasp at Spanish? Was it the talkative man from second block who spoke of mental processes and said that my identity essay was, “too good to be true”? Was it the lady from first block that called Gandhi a kook and the entire class agreed? Was it the girl from the other side of the hall, third block? Does she have dark hair? Tan complexion? Starry eyes? Do I refer to her way too often than I can afford? Will it only be until the day I die that everyone will finally understand WHAT SHE MEANT TO ME???… Was it the boy in the back corner wearing the black hoodie? Does he also have dark hair? Tan complexion? Does he have an awkward sounding voice? Was it me? Did I set myself off? Did I set myself off, at all?

Still, I do not understand how my peers and I got to the way we were in this point in time. I don’t understand why she won’t talk to me from across the hall from the wood so tall. I don’t understand why he lives so far away from the side of the bay. I don’t understand why my friend left and was out. Back to the Sun Devils, no doubt. My friends, if I can call them that, came from throughout the city. They left their homes in search of a better life. And so, they have encountered this, “Academy.”

Still, I do not understand how, for me at least, this Academy became near synonymous with near mediocrity. Denied the full potential by the High School system, this place. Tucked into the sleepy suburbs of middle class America, this place. Going nowhere fast, and I am concerned that the guiding hands simply seek to impress people from outside the looking glass, this place. In this fortress, as the walls get higher, the courtyard gets uglier. No longer should I call it sanctuary, this place. Yet in the hopes that this place shall improve, I shall endure all matter of winter’s virulent gales and the pulsing Sun of the summer day. I was zoned for this school, and though I was zoned for this school, I understand that I came across this Academy in its adolescence. There is still so much room to grow in this garden bursting into life. Much the same for myself, for my peers, and especially the girl from across the hall. I will stay, and I will be back.

The year may end, but the experience almost certainly will not. I will be back, for I have no other choice but to turn as the leaves have done with colors of the wind. Furthermore, I cannot say with all honesty that I haven’t learned a word. From this year I learned of a world without borders, and the mind on the hands of a clock. The numbers shall add up to the days ahead. And though the days are plenty, while we’re still here, it might be worthwhile contemplating those days plenty ahead. How you see the future, particularly your future, indicate so much more than the era’s generation can take in. Often do I stay up long nights discerning on how life might have yet to improve. Other than that, however, not much.

Remember that in an instant our lifetime can all be at an end. Remember that you might hold on to someone in mind, but by that time, they might just leave you hanging. All said and done, looking back at this paper, will I still see this as a reflection of myself? Looking back, will I still see those I came across long after June do us part? Instead I am left to my own devices in filling the empty void with mute a message of longing, aspiration, and sarcasm… Mostly sarcasm.