Today, I graduate from high school.

It’s simply the strangest sensation that I’ve ever had with the knowledge of the fact; my future is a blur, my past is fading fast, and I’m leaning on the understanding of what I’ve learned on four little years. Out of the hundreds that I’ve past by every day, I only have a handful of friends, and one that I consider a true friend after a four year residency at Hillcrest High School, and I’m not sad about leaving.

What I am a little scared of is leaving my childhood, and blooming into an adult.

My mother wrote me a letter this morning, and presented it to me after Graduation practice. I won’t quote the highly-personal letter that my mother wrote to me in the blend of cursive and print that I’ve grown to mimic, but, in the letter she referred to me as, for the very first time, a young woman. To my parents, I’ve always been the little girl that had contained all their hopes and dreams, their fears and their aspirations, their dedication and their legacy–but now, I am metaphysically breaking out of my porcelain frame into a world that recognizes me equal to the parents that have sheltered me for so long.

I have so few cares and responsibilities, but so many worries and hopes as I enter this next stage of my life. I’ve been a dedicated, motivated, and outstanding student for these past four years (graduating top 5% of my class, being involved in all the right groups, volunteering, giving myself completely to school), but now the foundation that I stood on so firmly these past nine months is weakening, and I find myself on the sand of a future that is at University of Missouri. I’m not saying that I won’t do well or progress as an individual, but I’m terrified of what could be in store for me. How do I do it on my own? How do I live up to the expectations that my parents, my friends, my family… even myself, have placed on me?

But then it occurs to me: this is only a stepping stone. The greatest achievement in my life will not be graduating from high school (as it will, unfortunately, for some of my peers); this is only the beginning of the life that I’ve chosen. My path is clear, my mind hopeful, my eyes set on His purpose for me.

High school was a journey that shaped me in multiple ways, but this is not the end of my road. Life goes on, I’ll go on. I guess I just need to remember that as I pass my tassle from right to left tonight, only to throw that cap as high as I can in the air. So high, maybe it can reach my potential.

Just maybe.