The Last Stretch

I'm in my last month at a school I've spent 8 years at.
Eight years.
Eight years that have taught me more than I ever thought I would learn. Eight years of friendship and catfights. Eight years of love and broken hearts. Eight years of meeting new people, and cherishing old friends. Eight years of laughing with (and only sometimes at) teachers that are subconciously funnier than anyone else I know. Eight years of getting to know my parents, and brother. Eight years.
My heart breaks thinking about it. This, above all else, makes me ill to consider. I can't leave. It's not natural for me to leave a place that gave so much to me, and that I poured my heart out to.
And do you realize the people I have to say goodbye to? These people have seen me sob. These people have seen me cry laughing. These people have held my hand when I'm angry, and reassured me when I needed it. I've given every person at this school a little piece of my soul.
I don't want to leave. I wish I could be held back, even if nobody else was. I don't want to go to a school where nobody knows me at all.
This is it. Two weeks. I'm spending every second I can here. Dreading my last day. I feel emotions I can't put into words.
The last stretch.
Have you ever felt like that?
Have you ever lived most your life in one place, only to be torn unceremoniously from it?
The realization hit me the other day like a load of bricks. I will never forget this place.
I'll even miss the bad experiences. Kinda.
If you're fortunate enough to not be in 8th grade, please enjoy your school. Cherish next year. Love your classmates. Don't be negative about them. You won't want to think badly of everyone at a time like this. Enjoy your fun years, because right now, it hurts enough for all eight years.
I love my school. I'll dearly miss my 8th grade class.
And goodness, will I miss my seventh graders.
Thanks for reading.
Have an epic week.