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It's coming -- the end -- it's coming fast. Every second that passes draws it closer and closer. Closer. Not prepared. Not ready. Not wanting it to end. Not wanting it to begin. But it's still ending. There's nothing I can do, but wish that time would stand still.

In three days, a little less, it'll be fairamont plaid and white tights and black shoes. A polo, a cardigan, a bag. Books and books and notebooks and pens and more books. Inky fingers, cramping hands, essays, thesi. Calculations, calculator's broken! Sana. Raechel. Kayla. I shudder.

It's coming -- the end -- it's getting faster, too! Don't let it! No, no, no! Stop! Freeze! Hold on! I'm not done with the reading yet!

Hijacked a locker. Mine was going to suck. Ain't ready to need it. Ain't ready to go. Ain't ready for the early mornings and nights. Ain't ready for the skirt and the polo and most especially the cardigan. Ain't ready to think about college! Junior seminar? No! Don't want to. Have to. They're forcing me to go!

It's coming -- the end -- it's coming fast. Time to accept it. Nothing I can do. Best summer of my life. It's ending to soon. School books are ready. Uniform's pressed. My back's already aching. My head's already exploding! It's coming. The end.