011: desperation writing and moving on

here is something i wrote in AP class when we had the desperation writing activity.

In AP Literature class, we use the classroom of the Sophomores, so we don’t sit on our own chairs. At this very moment, I’m sitting on another person’s place, using her chair, using her table. The student who has been using this table and chair for the past months doesn’t know that I exist, yet through this table and chair, we share something in common –a bond that was non-existent until today.

Sitting here makes me wonder about the girl who sits here everyday. Is she like me? Is she the opposite of me? If I meet her, would we be friends, or would we be “enemies” (though I have none)? Through this table and chair, however, I see glimpses of the girl that I will probably never truly know. The surface of the table is smooth and clean, aside from the small dents that have appeared through the years, so I guess this student is a pretty organized girl. She probably doesn’t own a cutter too, since there are no cut marks on her table (maybe this almost means that she doesn’t get bored in class and is actually interested in the lectures, so she doesn’t play and vandalize her things). Two years ago, I was just like her, sitting at the front of the class agonizingly memorizing the names of various body muscles and trying to perfect factoring polynomials.

Now that I think about it even more, three years ago someone else sat here, four years ago, someone else sat here, and ever since these wooden chairs and tables got to Poveda, someone has been using them. I will never meet these people, but because of this table and chair, we’ve crossed paths in our lives. Then, in a month, new people will be sitting here and will fill the void that I will leave. I’m off to a big university, where I’ll use new tables and chairs. I’ve been told time and time again that life is fleeting and illusory, and that the only thing we can do is move on. I’m going to graduate soon, and the girl-who-sits-here will move to the third floor of the High School building and into a new classroom. Someone else will use this chair and table, someone completely unaware of what Sophomore year will bring. People will come and go, but this chair and table will still remain.

Through this table and chair I have become a part of a sticky web that connects the people who have sat on this very spot; by the resting of my bottom and numerous concepts of Physics, I have become a part of history. I’m afraid to move on, to accept that life is fleeting and that people will replace me when I leave this school, but the future is inevitable. It will happen, whether I like it or not, and I’ll have to stand up from this chair, walk out the door, and go home.

 

 

in other news, i got a VG for my AP book report! hurrah!

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