We once owned this place.
A little while ago, once upon a time, this was ours.
Don’t lean on the railings.
Always walk on the pathway.
Walk in two’s.
Don’t tie your cardigan around your waist.
Comport yourselves… Be comily.
This was once us. It was our’s. We owned it.
Today, I stood on the topmost floor and leaned against the railing, in the way that would have gotten me in trouble, when I used to do it three years ago, and although it was all so familiar, there was something unfamiliar about it, and I just realised what.
You weren’t there, the 91 of you, I made us 92 and I was the only one there at that point, I walked the length and breadth, only recognising adults, barely a familiar face among the students and that was a sure sign that my time– our time, is past.
We spent 6 years in hell, in our own heaven. However you wish to put it.
6 years of torture and fun, walking back and forth the Green Gates, wearing cream and green for the length of time. We made friends, acquaintances, enemies, frenemies. We made memories. We made history.
I hold on to my memories. Memories good, memories bad. Memories of us, of us all: crying, laughing, screaming, shrieking, singing, dancing, fan-girling; in pain, in happiness, in sadness, in joy. The good, the bad and the down- right ugly.
I’m filled with nostalgia every time I see the Green Gates. It is no longer our kingdom, we might as well be outsiders, but this is where we were made. We made memories here; we made history here.
A/N: I was forced to go to my Alma Mater last week and it was just so… surreal, to say the least. Am i the only one filled with nostalgia for my secondary school or is this meant to happen?
I dont really have much to say right now, anywho…