It just lost its luster

I was in 9th grade and my friend Meade had a study hall when I had lunch. "Don't worry" She said, "I'll still have lunch with you. My study hall is with Pete." My ears perked up. "Pete?"
"Yeah, Pete. You know, the photo guy?"
"Oh yeah" I replied reluctantly, Remembering that I was a tid bit scared of going in there as a freshmen. "Come on!" Meade said, and off we went down to Springside from are too-close-for-comfort hallways up on the third floor.

I went in and automatically I knew that I was an idiot for even thinking of being scared of this awesome place. Pete would welcome you as if his kingdom of photo was a playground and kids wouldn't care who you were or what grade you were in. There were no censors in this room. You could say whatever you wanted and no one would yell at you, and if they did it was to share an opinion, not give out a D-form. You felt like an equal at that table complete with drawings of penises, hearts, and your average weed smoker; and it was glorious! I found myself hanging out in that room every second I could get. But now, that's not the case.

Today, I find myself visiting when I can, but only if necessary. The room has changed, and into something I don't like, I'm afraid to say. It first started last year with Pete's potential loss of his job. He was to be evaluated and we were all worried since we knew Pete was such an out of the box character. Then as the year progressed his worry turned to anxiety and eventually to depression. There were some definite nudges to this path of sadness, but I'm not here to point fingers, I'm here to tell the story.

Eventually, the year ended and, in Pete's case, on a sad and tired note. Every summer I would leave the Photo room, upset that I wouldn't have it for 3 months but this summer was different. I was quite excited to leave that room. I could go off and do anything because I had found myself. I thought that this summer could give me time for freedom while giving Pete some time to figure out what was going on. But when I came back from the most amazing summer of my life Pete was still depressed and the room had turned from its original, dirty self to a linoleum clean and plastic cold. No longer was the smell of developer in the air, but dry erase markers, and fluorescent lighting replaced it. The first moment I walked in after the change, I knew it wasn't home.

Don't ask me what happened because, to tell you the truth, I have no clear answer. It's just changed. Some how the role of the scared 9th grader and the wise and wonderful teacher switched. Suddenly, I'm the comfortable person who knows who she is, looking down on a confused kid searching for guidance. The tables turned and I tried to help, everyone tried to help but it was no use. Eventually we all had to leave. Each one of his loyal friends had to find a new photo room with the lax vibe of procrastination and acceptance. It's sad. It was something beautiful that was dying slowly and as much as you didn't want to watch it, you had to. Not because you enjoyed the site of pain and suffering but because you had respect for it and by watching its last sparks of original life shooting up, it would give you hope for its honor that once lived. To this day people still wander back to the room, hoping to see those sparks fly again. But they wont. All they'lll see is the meandering of pointless beings trying to help what has already died.