Here’s the thing about the end of high school. I’m ready. I thought it would be harder, more emotional. I thought that it would hurt to leave a piece of my childhood behind, but that piece has been gone for a while and I don’t think I ever learned how to get it back. High school gifted me the first real friends I’ve had since kindergarten, and high school gifted me my teenage years, and they in turn went and shattered all hope I had for months on end. I’m still picking up the pieces, and they tend to cut my palm if I’m not careful. The end of high school means the start of university, and the start of university means I don’t have to live at home anymore. I don’t yet know how to fly, and my wings are stiff and new, but I’ll learn to stretch them out, now that I’m free.