Thirteen years of torture
I think they call it kindergarten
so you don’t think you’re ending in grade 13
But they can’t fool me anymore
Tomorrow they hand me proof of my intellect
A piece of paper mass produced and a signature copied thousands of times
But the achievement of completion is more than just diplomacy

Tomorrow I walk a thin line between childhood and autonomy
The clock strikes midnight and a new day dawns on the rest of my life
This hour has come so suddenly
It feels curiously cold, like a draft from an open window
Perhaps it is the world outside beckoning me to sneak away

Will I follow the draft into the dark
Will I begin to trust myself
Will I see the light
Will I find love
Will I survive?

Questions keep bubbling up
Like gas in my stomach
I belch them out silently in my head
Trying to find peace before this big day
Trying to rest in the unknown
But how can you find rest in questions
They feel like an empty pit
And I long for some substance to fill this void

But it is thrilling

* – I am not graduating tomorrow, but I know many who are.