redheadcomics:

And nap.

(Source: gingerthon)

We’ve tried the goodbye
So many days
We walk in the same direction
So that we could never stray
They say if you love somebody
Then you have got to set them free
But I would rather be locked to you
Than live in this pain and misery

The day I’ve awaited for the past four years came and went last week. Graduation. Literally, the most surreal moment of my life.

I didn’t walk across the stage. I floated, as if in a dream, up to Heath Morrison and he commented on my “fan base” since my entire family and the choir cheered for me. Probably a whopping 40 people. Then I floated up to Mr. Sullivan and gave him the required hug that was more awkward than an ant trying to carry an entire piece of toast.

Boom.

Four years of semi-hard work all culminated into a 17.34 second walk across a stage during which all I could think about was how badly I had to pee.

Seriously? That’s it? Maybe I had expectations bigger than the world’s largest cookie, but that moment wasn’t anything but a huge relief. (Although the having the world’s largest cookie at grad night would have been pretty awesome.) I guess all I have now is the summer, which is clearly not an issue for me. I mean, I spent the entire first week of summer by the pool and shopping. Not a bad start, at all.

So, I guess this is the last post in my apparently five post series of Senior year. I guess I meant to write a bit more but I wasn’t in the mood to blog or something. Maybe I’ll have more stories to blog about about this summer, or next year during rush…. Excuse me, recruitment. Or just my college adventures in general. Who knows?

I’m stuck at home. All I want to do is go see a movie with my best friend who is already mad at me because I can never hang out with her because it’s when I’m busy or it’s bad weather. But god forbid I ask her to hang out when she has to work. When she works every effing day over break. So she asks me to hang out on the one night we’re both free and I can’t because my parents don’t want me out driving in bad weather. Now she’s mad at me because she doesn’t understand parents still giving rules after you turn 18. Kjaafkjbaafhbasckkaafkbaakfjfdaksjbdfjka. F.