Eighteen years old, legally I’m an adult, so should I act like it. I should I know the next move or two or even 30 moves in the next stage in my life.
Well, no I don’t. I know nothing of my life or the things ahead of me, and I’m glad because I knew high school, and as I walk across the stage, I’ll think of only a few things: “Will some people ever learn that there’s more than just being ‘hood,’” “you must know the person not the behavior,” and “being lazy doesn’t mean unintelligent.” Mostly, though I’ll be looking forward to discovering my future and seeing my real friends future.
High school is nothing, just the painful, emotional, physical and mental annoying place in the world. Not because it’s bad, but mostly because when you don’t know who you are, it can be all of these things and more.
So I say goodbye, Webster Groves High School and the teachers that let me bum in their classes and my coaches. Hopefully, I’ll see you all again. “Quid agatur in latinam, manet in latinam.”