Summertime, and you know what that means...

Summertime lo-o-o-vi-inn', baby why couldn't you be mineee?


Well you get addicted to Regular Show for a bit, watch the videos of the RS crew's Wondercon panel one evening, curse the universe for living a continent away and being fated to never be able to see them for yourself,

and boomshakalaka, the Summertime song just gets stuck in your head.


Seems appropriate though. Two days ago, I graduated from my final year in highschool and left permanent tearstains on T. Lani's dress and Sir Aldwin's sleeves. It's a great feeling to know you're finally done with the hellish roller-coaster bends that highschool has to give;

it's an even greater feeling to get the freedom you've been dreaming of all these months.

But I don't know.

Fourth year highschool was the best year of my entire life. 

Definitely in college, there are never going to be any profs like T. Lani or Sir Aldwin or T. Alen, 

or any radical bunch of nerds hopping around the campus talking about Adventure Time and singing Sweeney Todd songs like crazy,

or fieldtrips taking you to places like corpse museums and Enchanted Kingdom.

Even if there were tons of parts which I hated like cramming for Physics exams,

or extreme homework/project dumps at least once every month,

useless junk we would never use in the future,

and death by graphing tangential functions,

it's been the most perfect year ever.

Earlier I've been thinking about how it feels like it was just yesterday that I was stuck at home, lazing around while reviewing for entrance exams and forming portfolio pieces in the process.

Now it feels like finally, everything I've been dreaming of last year finally coming true this year.

But then... why does it feel so empty?