Senior year,
the end.
The beginning.

I will walk into that far too shiny, hospital scented, prison themed building where I will sit, sit, and sit. Allowing them tho stuff into me quite a bit of useless information, and also a bit of not-so-useless education. I might try to be who I imagined my senior self to be when I was thirteen.

Confident, beautiful, striding down the halls with a sense of highly regarded self. Friendly, kind smiling at everyone and chatting cheerfully with all. But mostly I will just be the senior self I became,despite my thirteen year old aspirations. A bit shy, A tad average, and a little too emotional. I will be worried about my hair, and wonder if anyone can see the circles sleeplessness sketched beneath my eyes. I will be afraid that I will not keep my head above advanced math, sign language three, and creative writing. I will hope that I can afford a decent college. I'm sure I will cry over the stress of it, eventually. Then smile when I
realize it will be okay.

I will surely wonder how some girls can wander about wearing shorts that were most probably bought for far more money than it took to buy the fabric they're made of. I will think of all the different ways I can change for the better, and hope that I am the person God wants me to be, for today anyway.
I will smile when I see my best friend by his locker tomorrow at seven fifty sharp (never a minute too early), who I can guarantee is thinking much the same as I . I will wear self-assurance around my neck,
next to my cross pendant-(so everyone will know where my heart belongs) and a key- (so everyone knows whose heart I hold)and I will walk, striking heel first to my
senior year,
the end
the beginning.