A Walk Down the Halls

Samuel Jacobsen, Junior Editor

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Life is an interesting thing.  So fickle and short; one human life is not even a heartbeat in the larger scheme of things.  However, life is immensely complex.  Sometimes it doesn’t make sense.  Thoughts, plans, ideas that we can’t comprehend; the patterns of nature that math and science tell us all make sense, but what our experiences tell us otherwise.  People live and die–this much is certain.  Loved ones live and die, it’s the way of things.  Things can’t last forever, biological and physical rules prevent that.  But why do loved ones leave?  Why do loved ones stay?  Why anything?  We are united in this school by one ultimate factor: we are all human.

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Life moves quickly from one point to the next, whilst our minds record our mileage in the form of malleable memory.  On and on and on we travel at different speeds to our various destinations, passing by one another along the way.  Our roads through this life are all random; controlled naught but by the anarchy of the universe.

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Our lives follow roads that we ourselves tile; floors masoned by our own experiences and memories.  Everyone has a slightly different patterned floor, but everyone has a floor nonetheless.  In Centaurus, we are often given the chance to gaze briefly on another person’s floor–to momentarily walk across it in another’s shoes.  

Footsteps

Footsteps

Footsteps

Like endless raindrops pounding down on some immaculate window we walk through school everyday; each person with his or her own story.  United in many ways, separated in many others.  We must show empathy to one another, but that can be hard when our own lives tend to be so busy.

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The hallways that our floors run through (some wide, others thin) are lined with the backbone of both life here at CHS and life in a deeper sense–Centaurus’ halls are lined with lockers.  We lock away books, and tomes, and feelings.  Memories, poured from fountains into bruised bottles, and locked away.  Pencils, paper, words.  All are things we lock away.  Sometimes something in our locker spoils, or our lockers get too full.  In times like this all we can do is take a big breath and begin cleanings.

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Memories and forgotten thoughts are locked away in our lockers along with parts of our identiies.  Our identities are all so unique, but all so alike.  We all go to the same school; see the same walls, walk the same halls.  But the way we perceive them is unique.  One may see a cold stone wall as all that, but another may see a canvas waiting to be decked out with symbols of the pop culture we worship.

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The long and twisting road we traverse.  We go in groups, but we all move differently.  Some stand tall and stride proudly, others trip.  We all walk down the long road of life at different speeds and patterns.  And in the end there may have been times  we wished could have been different; things  we wished we had or hadn’t said.  But in the end, when our long drive comes to a close, we’ll look back from all the different spots we’ve come to and say in each of our own voices: “I can’t imagine doing it any other way.”

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