Dear Finals: A Message

Dear Finals,

Well, you’re back again. I should’ve known that you’d come so soon. I feel the semester has flown by too fast. You’re still here, looming like a big dark cloud over my head.

Me, at the moment.

I guess our relationship is a tiny part love, and mostly hate. I deal with so much stress everyday, trying to balance grades with extracurriculars and extracurriculars with community service and community service with driver’s ed and driver’s ed with SAT prep, and you have the nerve to show up out of the blue, uninvited (thanks Adele!) and force me to cram you into my already hectic schedule. You take up so much of my time. All I wanna do is leave you behind in some gutter, to rot and fester. I wish we could just break up. I wish it was all that simple. Yes, you’re important, and yes, it seems that I’ll be stuck with you for about 7 more years of my life. But man oh man, you make me miserable!

    It’s not your fault; it’s who you are. It’s not you, it’s me. I feel like my life is a confusing, tragically beautiful mess of due dates and gossip and unexpected hurdles.

Me, yet again.

Even though I know it’s in your nature, I’ve gotta say, you are really not helping me out here. I’d ask you would lend me a hand, but I’m not sure you have any to spare.

But, you aren’t technically all bad. You pull me up by my bootstraps and make me work harder than I have all semester, and you challenge me with every study guide and breakdown that you throw my way. As I lose sleep, I lose my cool too, but I’m forced to work through the pain and come out a more flexible, able student, all because of you. So, thanks for that, I guess.

I’m anxious when you come, relieved when you’re gone; happy that you came to visit but also, living in dread of the next time you do. Even though our relationship may be beyond salvaging, you’re here to stay, and on behalf of everyone who stands by my side in solidarity, I accept your challenge.

Me, once more.

I will meet you at the highest peak, look you dead in the eyes and say, “Bring. It. On.” With my calculator and notes and pencils in hand, I can proudly say that now, I’m not afraid of you anymore. But, you still suck. Sorry!

Begrudgingly yours,

A High School Student

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