Here it is.

Right now, I'm laying on my bed with no bedding on it because it's in the wash. Right now, I'm typing this blog post that I wanted to post yesterday, but felt like Wil Wheaton's post needed to be made, and I hate chain-posting. Right now, I'm checking my Facebook to see if the kind lady that lives next door to my grandma can hem my dress for graduation. Right now, I'm not crying.

Every year, for as long as someone I know has been graduating, I have cried most of the month of May. I cry at last concerts, last Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, Fridays, pep bands, ect. Pretty much, I was just an emotional wreck. And now it's my turn. This thing that I've been waiting for for 13 years is here. Tomorrow morning, I will wake up and go to school for about 3 hours before we have our Senior barbecue and do a run through of graduation, and I haven't shed a single tear. I always thought that I'd be really emotional about leaving, but as John Green said in Paper Towns "It is so hard to leave—until you leave. And then it is the easiest goddamned thing in the world.” And he's right. I've been waiting to leave for so long, I can't imagine it as anything other than easy right now.

Most classes bond during their senior year. They have senior bonfires and senior pranks, senior skip day, cheesey "I'm going to miss you so much why weren't we friends sooner" moments, the works. But our class hasn't done that. And with 3 hours left, I don't think we will. But I think it's because we already did. Usually that kind of fake bonding is great for the end of things. It's a chance to help influence how people are going to remember you. But our class has already done all of that. When Jacob died, our class pulled together. Whether you hated or loved Jacob, or anyone in our class for that matter, you came together and helped each other through it. Not everyone was mourning the loss of Jacob, something some people just didn't understand, but we were all in a state of grieving. I, personally, for my grandpa, who had just passed away. So we did all of this fake bonding as we sat together and cried for a few days, and now we're just left with the "I know you're not that way so don't bother" stages. We all hate each other. We all want out. None of us want to come back. It's just so much different than the way I've always pictured the end of my senior year going.

But as John Green also said in Paper Towns, "Things never happen the way you imagine them. But if you never imagine, they never happen at all."