after about eighteen years of homework, walking in single-filed lines, bathroom breaks,
class schedules, books, notebooks, number two pencils,
standardized testing, dining hall food, moving, moving again....
I've made it. It is time. It is senior year.
a part of me is crying. i honestly can't believe society genuinely accepts 22 year olds into their club.
i feel like i just graduated high school, and things like pumping my own gas
and scheduling my own appointments still freak me out.
but, like, Obama can do it...I guess I can too.
as a way to (sort of) celebrate our senior-ness, we went out in NYC.
as you do.
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| i don't know if you know this, but some of my friends are models |
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| straight flexing. |
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| "no, don't take a *flash*" |
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| these are my best friends. |
