You'll Miss This

First day of school. New uniform doesn’t fit. Quick, act “creative”. Because you’re not a Creative yet. Not even close. You’ll miss this. 

Meet 24 strangers. You’ll spend more hours in their company than all the people you love combined. And then you’ll love them too.
You’ll miss this.

Fail. Fail again and fail harder.
Fall flat on your face, break your nose, and wet yourself while everyone’s watching.
Then stand up with piss in your pants and your fist in the air because you’ve finally cracked it.
‍
You’ll miss this.  

Wrong apostrophe. Wrong typeface. Who cares? Ian cares. You’ll miss this. 

Miss birthdays.  Miss friends. Miss everything that isn't this. And then you'll miss this.

Hate Marc. Love Marc. Goodbye Marc. You’ll miss this. 

Hate yourself. Love yourself. Goodbye to who you were before this. You’ll miss this. 

Deadline day. New Blood. Back sweat. Verge of tears. Rob told me “you’ll miss this”. 

Mess. Rats. Lunch banned. You’ll miss this. 

Create a baby. Nurture it. Help it grow. Then watch velociraptors tear it apart. And know it deserves it. That's what a WIP is. You'll miss this.

No punches pulled. No white lies. No bullshit. You’ll miss this. 

You can’t do it. You’re God’s gift. You can’t do it. You’ll miss this. 

“You're repeating yourself. Vary your language." Caroline says. You'll mourn this. 

Pete repeats himself too. He’s on re-Pete. He only ever says one thing, but it’s the right thing. He’s single-minded that way. You’ll miss this. 

You’re rubbish. You’re okay. You’re good. Then you’re good enough to leave. But you’ll miss this. 

The lift mirror. 2:38 am. Bloodshot eyes smiling back at you. You’ll miss this. 

Start alone. Meet your partner. They’re the only one coming with you. And they’ll miss this. 

Last day of school. 10 months. 309 days. 1 course. 

Blink.
And you’ll miss this.