Graduation... what?
So, I graduated two days ago.
The last four years came to a magically dramatic end complete with parade and innapropriate musical interlude that put everyone to sleep.
There's only a few things that really meant anything to me this weekend:
1. My brother came out to New York and told me he was proud of me.
2. My grandmother kissed Emma on the cheek.
3. Jax bounced back from her round of vaccinations and doesn't seem to hate me anymore.
4. I graduated with a 3.01 GPA. Not enough for honors, but still something I'm proud of.
5. I think I've actually become a part of Emma's family.
I'm upset that some people didn't come, and that those who did come where more interested in the glass museum then my graduation.
But yet, I feel completely and totally blank inside. I want to snap out of it, but I can't. I am stuck at work right now, serving people with a fake smile and all I want to do is run away. I want to run through the grass with my shoes off and feel the wind in my hair. I don't want to buckle down and get a job, working for the sole purpose of making money.
I hate money. If I had my way, we would live in a trade society.
But I don't. So I work. It's not a bad job, really. Just... ordinary. Soul-sucking. Depressing. Plastic.
The last four years came to a magically dramatic end complete with parade and innapropriate musical interlude that put everyone to sleep.
There's only a few things that really meant anything to me this weekend:
1. My brother came out to New York and told me he was proud of me.
2. My grandmother kissed Emma on the cheek.
3. Jax bounced back from her round of vaccinations and doesn't seem to hate me anymore.
4. I graduated with a 3.01 GPA. Not enough for honors, but still something I'm proud of.
5. I think I've actually become a part of Emma's family.
I'm upset that some people didn't come, and that those who did come where more interested in the glass museum then my graduation.
But yet, I feel completely and totally blank inside. I want to snap out of it, but I can't. I am stuck at work right now, serving people with a fake smile and all I want to do is run away. I want to run through the grass with my shoes off and feel the wind in my hair. I don't want to buckle down and get a job, working for the sole purpose of making money.
I hate money. If I had my way, we would live in a trade society.
But I don't. So I work. It's not a bad job, really. Just... ordinary. Soul-sucking. Depressing. Plastic.