This is it.

You know no matter how many lasts we are experiencing in these final weeks of high school.
No matter the people we'll never see.
The teachers we'll never learn from.
The strangers we'll never judge.
I bet you anything the majority of us will wake up Saturday morning and go about our lives like nothing ever happened.

I mean we are only one day older than the last.
One hour more tired.
One minute less memorable.
One second closer to death.

Paris was great.
Neverland was a dream.
Home's heart gained some weight.

We walk these halls everyday, and yet all of us will hear one name, see one person walk, that we had no idea went to this school.

But no matter the cliques,
The hate,
The lies,
The egos,
The tears,
The scars.
The graduating class of 2016 will all breathe as one as we all stand and move our tassels like we have gained some sort of knighthood for turning our papers in on time.

I don't know about you, but for me it's so much more than that. Walking on that carpet and shaking hands with people you barely talked to. I'm doing that because I fucking made it.
I made it through every late paper.
Every teachers pair of eyes in the back of their heads.
Every suicide.
Every fight with parents or friends.
Every time where my heart was heavier than my textbooks.
And after that.
I woke up.
Got ready.
And went to school.
And I bet you I smiled at least once everyday I was in those halls.

My beginning at Lone Peak was bathroom stalls and knowing people by their shoes.
My rising action was facing a tidal wave while holding one hand.
My end is a confused head held high.

Now let's all move on and slowly forget.
Let's embrace our briefcases and hang our selves with our ties.
Let's wither away and become our parents.

But always remember that green is not a creative color.