sham in shambles

I have just become a second semester senior as of yesterday. It's a relief, because I've been stressed about schoolwork for 12 years and now I don't have to be...stressed...as much. Relatively. I know this is not like, Atlas levels of stress, but still. With all the shit that is about to rain down on me like the raincloud a la The Truman Show, it's a release knowing that there is nothing I can do anymore. Its like that dumb kid in freshman year gym class, the one who was dared to do a belly flop from the 20 ft diving board. He's just laughing as he climbs the first rungs, but with every step, with every one of his soggy toes wrapping around a new rung, a feeling of foreboding washes over him. By the time he is at the top he is still trying to retain the playful attitude he had once known. He is trying to remember that feeling of joy, of what it meant to be alive, to be human. But he has left us. He has broken through the atmosphere, and is orbiting our planet, a separate entity. It comes to a beautifully twisted, elegantly macabre crescendo when he takes those few, those brave, those proud, majestic leaps towards impending doom. As his corpulent body twists in the air in ways that defies the most basic laws of physics, a peculiar expression washes over his face like the veil of a blushing, virgin, 1850's Slavic bride. This is an expression known throughout the ages. An expression that reflects a feeling known by few men and women throughout history. Since the Early  Ages, when flint knives met the jaw of warriors, and the crunch of marrow ricocheted throughout the valleys, to the times when swordsmen pushed glints of silver through the viscous flesh of man. It is an expression that reflects a feeling of nothingness. Of bliss. Of ecstasy. Of emptiness. If Diving Board boy had left the human race moments behind on the journey, he has just rejoined it as he arcs through the air--and all at once. As his helpless body, which closely resembles a torpedo at this point, falls towards impending doom, and intolerable pain, he feels the passion, the love, the hate, the joy of all mankind. And because no man can handle such intense emotions, without combusting like the fiery balls of gas that decorate our mere universe, he relaxes into his fragility. He accepts that his efficacy has run out. He allows himself to be woven into the unforgiving, self assured fibers of the Fates. It is a look of contentment, tainted with the knowledge of sin. This is who I am now. No longer am I the half naked chubby kid climbing the rungs of public education, no. Now I am the half naked chubby kid plummeting towards my doom. But I do so with acceptance. And just like the chubby boy who will emerge from the water, stomach cherry red and sensitive, marred with the scars of the journey, I will rise from the ashes of my life. All in due time, dear poppets.