Being A Senior Is Okay I Guess

I walk through the front doors of the school for the first time in months and feel a mixture of excitement and anxiety.

I don't feel older.

The chaos is familiar, maybe more magnified, but still not a foreign feeling.

The backpack does not weigh heavily on my back,

My lunchbox rests at my side being held by a clenched fist.

Voices shout names, sometimes mine, from across the hallway.

Schedules aren't perfect,

You could here the "ugh"s and "YAY!"s everywhere you turn,

Friends compare classes hoping to find someone they can sit with.

The halls that once seemed too overwhelming are now a place I can saunter with ease.

First block is statistics, but I'd rather call it stats.

I'm surrounded by faces which I know well but also not at all,

A teacher who I've grown up waving to in the hall,

Second block I have a teacher who has taught two of my siblings,

Sitting beside friends who make me laugh and make AP English better than I anticipated.

By third block my endurance is wearing thin,

I start out in choir, but sometimes ended up in yearbook,

Maybe one day I'll actually settle in.

Fourth block I write articles with Mrs. Hoag as my teacher,

For my first semester I'm lucky my pile of homework isn't steeper.

When I was young, a senior was always tall, overpowering the underclassmen.

They were scary and I tried to stay away from them.

But now that is me.

I'm not like that, am I?

There's not much that can scare someone when you're no taller than five feet.

I see the first days of school in the past flashing through my memory,

I feel nostalgic.

The last first day.

No more My Little Pony backpacks, matching collar shirts, side ponytails.

I remember on our first day of preschool, or maybe kindergarten, my momma  said she cried.

She said she cried in the bathtub because she didn't know what to do without us there,

Now it's quite the opposite. 

But here's to the year of senior pictures and senior pranks,

The one where you have "senioritis" and pull all-nighters just to finish the project you procrastinated,

To when you'll eat senior breakfast in a fancy dress,

Or maybe win a superlative that you'd never expect.

Here's to the year that I've seen on my Instagram and Twitter feed for numerous years,

The year that I've captured on camera for others but never got to experience myself,

Until now.

A graduation cap that will soon rest upon my head,

With a tassle anxious to be flipped.

I will sing for the crowds who have watched me grow up in choir since freshmen year,

I will write for the teachers who demand perfection from an individual who can only do so much,

I will laugh for the friends who never leave my side,

I will cry during the moments I truly realize,

It's ending.

But being a senior is okay, I guess.

Being afraid to leave is scary, I guess.

Filling out college applications makes me feel like a mess.

But I'm just diving in head first, and hoping for the best.