Last day of term 1
At the start of last year, I imagined Year 12 would be a whirlwind of sentimentality — every ‘last’ event marked by an overwhelming flood of nostalgia. I thought I would be the one to pause at every milestone, treasuring each fleeting moment, holding on to the remnants of my school years as if they were slipping through my fingers.
After all, that’s who I’ve always been. When I left my primary school, I grieved it like a great loss. Every last lesson, every mention of my impending departure, every ordinary moment suddenly tinged with finality — it all felt unbearable. The last few weeks were simply a series of goodbyes, punctuated by tears I couldn’t hold back. I couldn’t fathom moving on, couldn’t comprehend starting fresh somewhere new.
And yet, here I am, at the end of my first and final Term 1 of Year 12, feeling none of the emotions I expected. There is no crushing nostalgia, no lingering sadness—just an odd sense of indifference. While my friends mourn the closing of each chapter — our last run up the hill at Fawkner Park, our last House Drama, even just our last Term 1 as high school students — I find myself feeling strangely empty. Not because these things don’t matter to me, but because some part of me refuses to register that they are, in fact, endings.
It isn’t that I won’t miss high school. I know I will. Especially Term 1 — the best, the most effortless, the calm before the inevitable storm. But perhaps I am in denial. I don’t enter every event thinking, “This is the last time.” I just live in the moment. Or maybe, I’m simply avoiding the weight of what it all means. I’m not really sure.
Sometimes, I wonder if I am letting these moments pass me by. If I am not making the most of every final experience. I sit here now, the day after my last Term 1 has ended, wondering: how do I feel? This chapter of my life — the one that has given me structure, routine, identity — is almost over, and I can’t quite grasp that reality. For years, our lives have been measured in school terms. We’ve lived in cycles of assignments, holidays, and fresh starts. But soon, that structure will dissolve, and I don’t know what comes next.
Reflecting on this past term, I know I have achieved a lot. And yet, it all feels like it passed effortlessly, like I was drifting through it. My three SACs were over in two weeks, leaving me with an entire month of relative ease — extracurriculars, music concerts, and a pace of life so relaxed it almost felt wrong. It made me wonder: does being busy make time feel more meaningful? Or is there something just as valuable in these quiet moments of stillness?
And so, I find myself at a crossroads. Should Year 12 be about pouring everything into my VCE subjects, ensuring the best possible outcome for my future? Or should it be about making those final memories with my friends — cherishing the people and experiences that have shaped me before we all part ways? I don’t know the answer. Maybe it’s somewhere in between. Maybe, as with everything in life, it’s a balance I will have to figure out as I go.
Perhaps, one day, I will look back on this year and finally feel the nostalgia I thought would overwhelm me. Maybe it will hit me all at once — when I pack up my uniform for the last time, when I walk out of the school gates, when the final bell rings. Or maybe, just maybe, I’ll never grieve it in the way I expected. Instead, I’ll simply smile at the memories, knowing that I lived them fully — even if I didn’t realise it at the time.
with love,
Cecilia
