Life begins when a baby draws its first breath. But such a notion is far too mundane, too mortal. It does not end when one takes its last. For me, my ending was just the beginning — it was the beginning after the end. 

“Where does one meet their end?” you may ask. And there I say, the end exists within the ‘seed.’ Yes, buried beneath the soil of time, it contains life awaiting its crude judgment of death. To never begin life is to never live, therefore, the unawakened seed is the one with the most hope.

My purpose in life dwindled to ashes the moment I stepped foot into Sunny Hills High School. It was just a glorified 9 to 5, learning a slew of information that ensnares me into a mindset of a modern slave. My teachers and admin view everyone, especially me, as a Gregor Samsa. We are not yet metamorphosized to pursue our desires, and they will continue to indoctrinate us, eliminating our hopes and dreams of catapulting into a beautiful butterfly springing back to life. 

My four years heralded me to a conclusion: we must preserve the self. As the chance of a rude awakening is no longer possible, we must potent ourselves not to ‘digest’ the doctrines of this dogmatic institution, but to merely ‘act.’ We must not fall into temptation, but we must deliver ourselves from such evil.

Considering time as the fourth dimension, one cannot simply disregard the 22% of our 18-year lifespan at this school. Taking into account the gravity of a dimension, I have to understand the possibilities of the memories this journey has brought me. 

Looking back, or should I say moving forward, my youth contained the best of times and the worst of times. 

In hindsight — or perhaps foresight — I now perceive my youth not as a prison, but a trial. A Ceremony.

I am no longer merely a Student. 

I have walked the Path of the Fool, glimpsed through the veil as the Seer and distilled experience into healing like the Apothecarist. 

I carry no diploma — only a grimoire of memory. 

And in its final chapter, it reads: 

He Awakened.