Emotional Masquerade

9. & suddenly it hit me: what if I don't remember? What if it goes away and I can hold onto this feeling? Will I forget? The tears fall in cascades as I try to linger just a little longer under the lights- as I try to remember this feeling; freeze the memory in my mind. This is it, I tell myself. This is really, really it. No more 'next season', no more 'next practce'. There is no more. So I sit in my car and sob and bargin with God and I know it's useless and childish but what do you do when you lose the one place you've ever felt you belonged? This can't be it. It can't be over.

Ready, set, go?

Toilet Paper Traditional

8. And I couldn't believe it. When the porch light came on, so did the one over my head. The band, my band, was TP-ing my house. While this may not sound like something that should bring any joy, it does. Because it's tradition. So my lawn is covered in toilet paper and there's a giant sign with my name on it and it's the middle of the night. But I want to cry because I can't believe it's not- that I'm a Senior. I can't believe I'm inside while they're out there instead of the other way around. I'll never TP a Senior house because by next year I'll be Alumni.

Tonight was tougher than I thought it was going to be. But it was something I've been waiting for.

Ready, set, go.