Things I love which I can't do anymore

Everyone seems to be hyped up by this supposed milestone in every student's life -- graduation. I am not. I despise it. I hate the idea of leaving school and fulfilling higher expectations (sheesh, as if I do not work my ass off to fulfill very high expectations now). My parents are expecting me to have Latin Honors, the university is expecting me to do well in my career, my friends are expecting me to be successful in my job as much as I was in school. Expectations. I am so tired of them. Sometimes I wish I was the average student. Sometimes I wish I could be invisible. Honestly, being a student is all I know how to do. I love it. I love learning, I love the awards and certificates, I love all the tricks that each student has undergone. The cheating, the secret notes, the leakage, the code names and gossips, the pranks, I love them all. I love hanging out with my friends during breaks, and our biggest problem used to be where to eat. I love those stolen photographs that we would look at 20 years from now (if I make it that long), and laugh at. I love the first day of class when I would be anxious and excited to see my new professors and new classmates. I love the last day of class when I would again be anxious and excited, this time to see my grades. I would literally jump up and down when I see them (well, most of the time). I also love the last term of the school year when I would anticipate summer vacation. Ah, summer! Bumming and chilling at home! I love getting my allowance once a week, and when I run short on budget, I could always ask for a raise. This list could go on and on, but I think it all boils down to one point. Being a student is easy peasy. There are so many things to love on top of the few horrible things, and for those horrible things, there is always a compromise like giving a code name to a bad teacher or teaming up with your friends during a difficult exam (gosh, I'm so bad!). Hence, these, these are the things the cold, harsh real world would take away from me. They would always be in my memory, but they would never come to life again. The worst part? I am done lying on a bed of sweet-smelling roses. I am about to climb a mountain of responsibilities and expectations, and I am on my own.

String

The string was thick and golden. I was mesmerized. I ran my finger through the silky line. It was delicate, it was fragile. I held it in my hand, guarding it against hoarders. It shall not be coveted as it shall be mine forever. I put it safely inside my pocket, keeping it from the rest of the world. One day I took it out, it is not as silky anymore. The string got crumpled and I decided to straighten it. As I did, a knot was formed at the middle. I tried to loosen the knot. As I pull one end of the string, the knot became tighter. I have no choice but to cut it to set it free. Now, as I have come to realize, the once notable string is just a crumpled worn-out piece of junk.