Whew.

I wish I didn't cry when the choir seniors had their last fifth period. It made me sad, though, because I'm so sensitive to emotions running through the air. I think it's just a habit of mine, to try to figure out how the rest of the world is feeling. It's almost as if I'm living life in third person, and whatever happens to me only catches up to me when I read the inside of my eyes at night and realize how I spent my day. Sadly, that means the undefined vein of clay that runs through the right side of my mind spends a lot of its time molding and shaping into the past, trying to find a bit of relevance in the present. Most of the time, it tends to filter out the problems that shape reality and leave in those sticky sweet thoughts that can brew a nice batch of dreams, but are otherwise useless.

I was confused whether it was the sentimentality of the seniors, or simply my own delusion. Perhaps it was I who brought this misery upon myself. Perhaps it was because of my own shyness and unwillingness to be bold that I never quite knew everyone.

Why else would someone I haven't talked to this entire year just come up to me to take a picture with me? And then another random person followed, and then another. I'm not sure whether this was out of politeness, ritual, or simply turning off the drama-filled, jealous, teenage blindfolds of high school and embracing the world as an adult. I simply couldn't understand. I didn't feel the coldness that I had felt for most of the year, when everyone seemed to know the music better than I did and had no room in their lives for someone like me. At times, I wondered whether they wished someone else had been picked to join the choir instead of me. I'm regretting that I let myself think this way, because it seemed that they were all such nice, sweet people. I went too far before my time, and my immaturity couldn't help but get in the way.

I know this isn't going to be an easy hole to patch. I still have some reasons to stay here among these people, even if I didn't handle this year as well as I could. I'd be a year older and a year wiser. Still, I know that this isn't exactly what I want. Scorn never dies where delusion never dies and fear never dies. As with everything in the world, such bad things are replaced where they are deserved. Nothing less will come, and nothing more. In some ways, I'm glad that this can be seen as an end, even if it's not mine. I live in third person, after all.