Everybody knows the end.

So it's over. It's finally over. High school is finished, and now we're starting on that really scary journey to the rest of our lives.

It's a surreal feeling -- like many of my peers, it really hasn't hit me yet. And, also like many of my peers, I'm having such mixed emotions that it's really hard to think. I'm so happy that it's all over -- that I don't have to work or worry anymore [at least until summer term begins. >_<]. I'm so happy to have nothing to do, after so many weeks of having too much to do.

But at the same time, I really don't want to say goodbye. Not only to my friends, but to my life. Because, really, my friends are my life. Without them, I wouldn't have been able to live this life, and create this year and fill it with such lasting memories. Now I have to start over. And in college, it's so much harder to make and keep friends because of the classes, the short semesters, the preoccupation.

I feel like I've talked myself out as far as starting over and getting ready for our future. So let's recall the past instead. Briefly, though. It's not like I'm writing a novel. ;]

I really have grown since freshman year, and I'm really proud of how far I've come. Shy, insecure, hestitant, timid, and lonely are just a few adjectives to describe what my life was like freshman year. I was scared. And high school is a scary place, so I know I'm not alone when I say that. But that fear was paralyzing, and I yearned to find a place among the overpopulated student body. I don't like being the center of attention -- but I don't want to be invisible, either. And overall, I believe I have achieved a really nice, healthy balance in my life that has kept me grounded for the past four years.

Everyone I know belongs to a "group" -- or, belonged I should say. I was one of the very few people in this school that didn't have one. But that doesn't mean that I didn't have friends. And at times, I felt like my lack of a "group" meant that I wasn't adequate enough to really fit in with people. But I was so totally wrong. It meant that I was the perfect kind of person to adapt and fit in. Before, I thought that being by myself meant that I was a loser and no one loved me enough to want to sit with me. But that wasn't it at all. And soon I began to value my alone time -- I respectfully declined invitations to sit with my friends because I desired the time I spent on my own, able to sit, collect, and stew in my own thoughts.

I haven't experienced a lot of the things that most of my peers have experienced. I used to think that that was a bad thing -- that I was missing out on an important part of my childhood and adolescence, not sneaking out after curfew, not pulling all-nighters, not going to after-prom parties, not getting home at 4 am. I feel like I've been so sheltered my entire life. But I also feel like that has provided me with a strong sense of control -- a strong identity as to who I am and who I want to be in the years to come.

I might not have enjoyed my high school years as much as some of my peers -- I might not have done drugs or gotten drunk; had sex, or even had a boyfriend. But I've always felt like I was already beyond high school -- and now I'm sure that I'm prepared for college, and my life ahead. I know what I want to do. I know how to get there [for the most part.] I know who I want to be. And I don't think I can say the same for everyone else in my graduating class.

So, yeah. I've lived my high school life mostly on the sidelines, watching other kids my age live the clichéd high school life. I may not have the experience. But I have my imagination -- and most times, imagination is much more rewarding than reality.

I can't tell you how weird it is, being in this Limbo between my past and my future. Reliving my memories but looking forward to new ones to come. This kind of thing really is beyond words. The feeling of accomplishment; of true freedom; of liberation. It's like a giant weight has been lifted from our shoulders; like we were running circles around a worn out track, performing for the same crowd against the same obstacles. But suddenly, the stands are empty; the track smoothed and repaved. It's like we've been preparing ourselves for this our entire lives, and finally -- FINALLY we can act. Finally we can put everything we've learned to the test; finally we can see what we can do.

I have a billion similes I can compare this feeling to; a billion clichés; a billion metaphors. But does it really cover what I’m trying to say? Like my letters, it doesn’t feel adequate. It’s something you need to experience to truly understand. And even when you experience it, you don’t really understand it. I still don’t, and I probably won’t for a while.

I’ve stated this before, and I’ll state it again. This is surreal. It’s unbelievable. It’s incredible. And it’s happening.

This is the beginning of the rest of our lives. So come on, world. Bring it on.

Always and forever,
--Monica McFLY™♥