It's all over and it's all about to begin. I may be officially finished my Leaving, but quotes from Friel are still circling around in my head and I can still remember the reproductive parts of seaweed and the exact terms of all the Home Rule bills.

I'm not sure how much of all this crammed information is eventually going to fall out. I'm doubtful that in 20 years' time, if I'm holidaying in Italy, that I'll be able to tell them that 40 per cent of Southern Italy is mountainous or that the tenth segment of an earthworm stores its sperm.

I'd like to think that if there was ever a mathematical crisis and somebody desperately needed to know how to double differentiate a curve, that I'd be able to lend a hand, but I doubt it.

Some things I'll never forget. My recurring Leaving Cert dream will probably be me sitting the exams as Michael Davitt. There is some hope. My granny can still recite the entirety of The Deserted Village several decades after learning it. I think I'm glad that we have such a diverse education system and at least now I can watch ER and pretend to understand what is going on. All the same, I'm looking forward to specialising.

I get a letter about my drama course in college today. At first I sit staring at it, terrified to open it. It's a restricted application course involving an interview, so if you fail the interview, you can't get the course, regardless of points.

Interviews for some of the higher-demand courses such as medicine might lower the points for such courses. When I eventually peek at my letter, it's good news. At least I know there's a place in college for me - now I just have to get the points. Today's exam should probably help a bit. The biology paper was lovely. The photosynthesis question is bit unusual and certain expected topics - enzymes, the nervous system - were absent. The genetics question seems to be genetically modified into something everyone can do without getting a headache.

The first question asks to count the number of molars in the mouth. A quick glance around the exam hall reveals everyone rolling their tongues around or with gaping mouths and biro moving in front of their teeth. I'm beginning to regret all the fillings I have.

Unfortunately, such tricks can't be used for the rest of the paper, although I wish I had smuggled my mouse friend into the exam so he could tell me what he eats, to help me with the ecology question. For me, the Leaving has finally exited, but I wish all students still doing exams the best in their remaining struggle.

My calculator sits in peaceful retirement and all my notes sit in a messy heap.

My little brother doesn't really understand the Leaving, but he seems relieved that the creature who emerged occasionally from his room to get a cup of tea is slowly transforming back into his brother.

All memories of calculus, Hard Times and Michael Davitt are slowly fading and the Leaving and all its horrors fused with madness is fading, too. It's hard to describe how everybody who's finished feels. To reduce it to full stop and semi-colons would be to diminish it somehow. Perhaps the best word is free.

Darragh Martin was a student at St Fintan's High School, Sutton, Dublin. He intends to study Drama and English at TCD.