experience is a brutal teacher.

i've never been one to have a lot of patience. 
as i typed these words, anxiousness bites me and the knowledge of having to wait one more day tortures me in the most uncomfortable way.
15th December could not have possibly come any slower - not that i look forward to it head on, there is always that sadness, looming over you.

the last paper will signify the point where i am no longer called a schoolgirl.
i have to grow up, watch myself now, not always relying on someone wiser, braver or stronger to be there to make sure i shan't stray from my path.

i can take care of myself, can i ?

there are so many things that i have now, that i treasure, never once wanting to let go of my grip on them. 
question is, are they real? or are they just masquerading, lulling me into a false sense of security. how can one ever be sure ?
but then i thought, no one's ever sure. we just have to put ourselves out there, so experience can be our teacher now.

so i'll wear my uniform for probably the last time on the 15th, sadly, and happily.

beautiful years, they were.
even if i had my worst crying fits.
even if i had seen people walk away from me.
even if i thought i could never heal from some wounds.
but they are the years that made me who i am now.

and i am truly, undoubtedly, grateful.


i dont know what exactly prompted me to write this. maybe just checking if i had gone a little rusty ?

wish me luck for EST :)

"Experience is a brutal teacher. But we learn. My God, we learn." - C.S.Lewis