Miss Aida
I sit here as a guest, watching through the eyes of one who was once in their shoes. Fresh, innocent faces, with youthful idealism shining from their faces as they walk across the stage to receive their graduation certificate. A graduation of a minor kind, of a ticket to further their studies to a new place.

I find myself mentally replacing their faces with mine, and those of my friends, and I cannot help but choke up as the emotion hits me, and the memories flood back.

Our hopes. Our dreams. Our excitement of going on that adventure, the adventure of university, where we would walk our separate paths and become the people that we are destined to be.

We were so young. So naïve. Unsure of what the future would hold, and yet, in that moment in time, our fates were bound together as students of our graduating class. We shared the same dream. We shared the same experiences. And our graduation was a sign of our parting ways, each to forge our own trails in life.

I find myself clapping for these strangers, seeing in them what I once was, and wishing them the best for the challenges I knew they would come across. The waxing and waning of friendships, despite the most steadfast of promises, and conversely, the strengthening of bonds that had been built during their short acquaintance. The culture shock of new experiences, experiences that could separate some of us and some that would bring out the hidden potential within. Discovering the strengths and weaknesses, and having our limits tested.

It is always an emotional moment. The fork in the road. Which road shall one take, for it makes all the difference.
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