This Class

This class was the honest truth. 

The type of truth that makes you want to take 10 showers just to feel okay again. 

This class was the 6:00 o'clock accident on the freeway with way too many vehicles and not enough survivors. 

This class was that girl or guy that confessed their feelings to you but it's not mutual so you're kinda just standing there....awkwardly... 

This class was the first time you hear Christina's voice in phantom. 

This class was the phantom singing "all I ask of you" every heart breaking moment. 

And we snapped and booed and tried to understand each other's pain. We connected. We learned how to take the costumes off. We let it pour on us without any jackets. And we let our skin burn crisp, not even thinking about sunscreen. 

Some of us caught on, we realized the rush isn't so bad and neither is standing up in front of people. And some of us, some of us it probably would have been better to make it all up in attendance school than sit in class and do nothing. 

Now we're about to walk, we're about to find out what it's really like to be 18 and graduated. "We're about to make history!" They say ....but really just for ourselves. Because 20 years from now they're not going to look back and remember us. They're not going to tell about the legends of creative writing. We're just the kite's stuck in the trees, and the frisbees lost to the rooftops. 

I guess all I'm saying is it's up to us to remember. It's up to us to remember what the first hit felt like, and how loud our heart pumped in our ears. Remember what her lips felt like, and how much his words stung.

Remember the shirt you're wearing right now, the amount of cologne you think you need. Remember what her heart looked like, and what it's like to walk in these hallways because it's only going get bigger from here. 

It's only going to get bigger from here. 

It's only going to get bigger.

And it's up to us to bring back the souvenirs.