Lasts

Only a few more

lasts of everything I know.

Anxiety high.

A few years ago, we were all just starting high school and plans of the future were so distant. But when the pandemic hit, I felt lucky because it hit my area in 10th grade and I had 2 more years left. Now, I’m seventeen, almost done with the first quarter of my senior year. I’m facing lasts every day that hit me like a truck. But I do not think it is the fact that I will never experience another high school homecoming that hurts, it is the lack of control I have over my life passing by. All I want to do is grab the moment, the last, and hold it until I am ready to let go of it. But by the time I see the opportunity to cherish, the moment is gone. It’s like I am running backwards, pushing against the upcoming lasts, but the lasts are 600 pound bodybuilders running at me with guns and the only advice I get is to cherish the moment while it lasts. And I know that’s the only thing I can do. So I do it. But every time I am facing a last, I am faced with nothing but anxiety, knowing that no matter what I do, and no matter how hard I try, these moments are only slipping from my palms like quick sand, and all I can do is sit and watch it all go by.