The time is coming
The stress is building
A year is ending
Your friends are leaving
The tension is clear
You're held tense in fear
...Exam time is here
The young man punctuated the end of his speech by slamming a now-empty glass down on the bench beside him. Maybe his head was starting to go screwy on him, he wasn't sure. His mother looked up from the meal she was preparing, and turned a curious eye on him as he followed this up by muttering, "I survived year twelve... just". Looking back at her with a fiery, almost defiant gaze, his lips set in a grim, straight line. As he walked away from the kitchen, hands thrust deep in his pockets, the lady shrugged, clearly having no idea what he was referring to.
The lad retired to his room, and buried his head in a calculus textbook. He mused to himself, if sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll were the world's biggest problems, seeing his best friend graduate from high school should be nothing.
This is not the end, it's just the beginning.