The day was finally here. I was a senior.
The only problem was that I felt no different than the year before when I was a grade 11, standing in the exact spot. The difference between 11th and 12th grade was as profound as the difference you feel on your fourteenth birthday. The day itself offers no new insight into life. You are one day older and are given the gift of extra shit to add to your already overloaded box labelled "reasons for anxiety".
We met up at our usual spot. Our tree. It was a revered hangout spot that would cause any underclassman to salivate. It was the reserved property of seniors, and whilst the younger students could look at it, they remained unworthy of it.
