Senior.

So now I'm old. A senior? Great.

I've been waiting for this time forever. To be a senior is to have power and importance. I don't feel powerful or important at all. In fact, I feel a lack of connection to the rest of the school. There were three classes ahead of ours freshman year. We got to know the sophomore and junior class well and looked up to them, not just as inspiration but also physically. We watched as the seniors we barely got to know walk down the center of the gym during our first time witnessing the Senior Assembly. We awed at their gowns. We applauded at their successes. And we ached to be them.

The next year, we watched as about four of our oldest friends walked down that same path. We still wanted to be them, but we knew we were going to miss them. And we did, but there was only a handful to miss.

This year. We sat in the bleachers. We watched as most of our friends sisters and brothers walked down the path of no return. We sat there are watched as their memories started to fade into future events that didn't include us. We watched as they accepted their last awards at The Town Name's High School. We didn't want to be them then. We cried for the loss of our classes, lunches, and practices together. We wept. We all wept. No longer did we want to be them. We wanted to go back to being a naive freshman who thought that four years was actually a long time. We, as a class, mourned the loss of the lives we had. We're no longer looking forward to stare at the backs of the older kids. WE are the older kids. We are the backs that people look at. And sooner rather than later, we will be the seniors that make juniors cry.