| Musical Practice Memories. we lay there sprawled on the cool tiles of the school hallway but now the halls are somewhat quiet and without the constant yelling and lockers slamming But for now, it's quite as we lay there our thoughts all screaming out but our voices silent. until one voice speaks,"what if every crack in the ceiling is because of something heard in these halls?" and our thoughtful conversations stop and our voices ring through as we notice the not-so-noticable hidden meanings in the schools walls every crack, beam, and scratch holds a different meaning and memory. The scratched floor during tap practice in the halls the punctured ceilings from the flag people each trivial little memory somehow means so much and if we don't hold on to these memories why create new ones? what would be the point of having these wonderful friends and vivid memories if we forgot them? and so now, as we lay in silence on the cold tiled floor of our high school we're not thinking of the homework and term papers the senior projects and deadlines or even the proms and school rehearsals but of the collective memories of all these experiences which culminate to form our high school years and you know what? everyone is right These Are The Best Years Of Our Lives. |