My friend sent me a text message this morning: At home crying because end of school finally hit me.
Last night we walked on stage as they called our names. We walked on stage and received our diplomas. Diplomas that represented four years of tears, laughs, tests, sleepless nights, overdue labs, and afters school meetings. Diplomas that stored the bitter, sweet memories of four years that flew by, like the balloons that flew off during the ceremony.
I watched their faces, faces that screamed happiness, relief, freedom. I replayed memories of my freshman year and thought of the little girl who never spoke, never raised her hand, never broke her shell.
We screamed, we jumped up and we hugged each other tightly, as if to secure our friendship bond. We made it. We did it.
I watched the tearful eyes of my teachers and knew it was over.
It finally hit me.