Twenty-nine days until school is over. Until I am officially finished University. I can’t even begin to describe how nervewracking it is knowing that I have a month left until I enter the real world. The real real world–with a real job and a future to look forward to. And the closer the days creep to graduation, the more freaked out I get about this whole thing. I’m really not ready for this, not ready to take my first steps into the world as a University graduate. I may have known what I wanted to do since I was five years old, but that doesn’t mean accomplishing it is going to be an easy feat. And maybe that’s why I’ve been slow to want to plan for what comes next: the black void that is my future. Part of me wishes I could slow everything down, hold onto what I have.
My mother wants me to get graduation photos, for my grandmother mostly. With her being sick now, it really means a lot to her that I do this. But the thing it… I can’t. It’s not that I don’t want to, maybe. It’s that the thought of those photographs, and what they mean, phsyically makes me sick everytime I think about them. I start panicking, feeling like I’m going to pass out or throw up. Just thinking about getting my photograph taken in a graduation gown, just thinking about graduating. So I told her no, I really don’t want to get them done. I can’t get them done. Other pictures, sure. Just no graduation pictures. And of course this upset her, and she’s pissed off, but she doesn’t understand I can’t. If just thinking about it makes me sick then what will actually going to get them done do? I can only imagine. Maybe it’s selfish and wrong of me. Maybe I’ll regret it. I just really don’t think I can do it.
And maybe this means that I’m not ready. Maybe it just means I’m scared. Maybe it means nothing at all.
It doesn’t seem like four years have flown by, and it doesn’t feel like I’ve changed all that much. Sure, a lot has happened, but in the end, I’m still that girl, with my hair a little shorter. Scared to think about what comes next. I’m not ready to be a grown up yet, to let go of everything which makes growing up so wonderful and scary. I want to hold onto that more than anything. And leaving her, the comfort of these walls, and classrooms, and books. It’s just too scary to even think about.