Graduation Day

Graduation Day

A Story by Ash

This is what my thought was during my eighth grade graduation ceremony.

     A sea blue, white collared robe lays itself gently against my flesh, washing 10 months of memories across my body. Never getting more than a second glance in the classroom, I stand here before hundreds of proud parents with an overwhelming feeling in my heart. If only five years ago I would have known that I'd be here. If only I could tell the little dancer what she would soon lose in order to gain this moment. She would lose her identity. Her purpose. Her friends. Her happiness. Five years into an uncertain future, she would gain: Her identity. Her purpose. Her friends Her happiness. The emotional crescendo of cheers and cries around me allows my heart to swell with long overdo pride. It was just then that my mind reminds me: I have not felt pride since I was the nine year old dancing on that stage. The pride bubbles powerfully within my chest that it almost hurts. I love it.

     I have wondered for five years as to what defines me. What exactly represents my identity? Five years ago, the answers was as simple as life itself back then. Dance was my definition. The music pulsed through my body, controlling my movements with every beat. The music and I were one with each other. We had an unperishable bond that not even the strongest of muscles or minds could penetrate. When my dance school closed down, it broke. How could it not? Answer, please, how could it not?

     Being seated in the last row during the ceremony, thankfully, leaves me alone with my thoughts. The name of each graduate echoes through the auditorium with the powerful voice of our now former principle. Perhaps I will see my teachers again who have taught me much more than solving equations.

     My row stands and walks down the aisle.

     As to what my identity is currently, I haven't got the slightest idea.

     The principle calls people with last names starting with the letter "V".

     Whether it be a student, a teacher, or a writer one thing is crystal clear like my friend the snow.

      I am now standing on the steps leading to the principle. I am three people away from ending eighth grade.

     My identity has changed whether I am content with that or not. But as a friend once whispered in my ear the night I was among deers and teenagers...

     My name bounces off the walls as I look down at the hundreds of students whom I've considered family. Diploma in hand and an unidentifiable feeling gnawing at my heart...

"You chose who you are, so be positive that you chose wisely."

I walk down towards my fate. I fear not of it anymore.  

© 2016 Ash

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Added on June 23, 2016
Last Updated on June 23, 2016



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