Stowaway on the Train of Thought

Even after walking ceremoniously down the hall, passing well-known friends who shake your hand and give you a pat on the back and say "Good luck, man", the fact that I am done with high school has not quite yet registered in my head. Four days until graduation feels like six weeks left of school. And now, all of a sudden, my age has caught up with cultural tradition, its rites of passage standing true as daydreams slowly, but surely, become reality. I am saying goodbye to friends I've just begun to know and to friends who have just begun to know me. This is the death of my presence G-E-T. My friends and teachers mourn but I rejoice. I am taking my first steps on this un-foretold path. As excited and eager as I am, I am equally nervous. I think in circles about my future and how I want it to be and my fears of not being happy or why I am forced to follow the systems of our hyper-institutionalized society. I try and imagine how I'm going to get by in San Francisco. I wonder if I'll even make it. I get no where with these thoughts. Yet I am going somewhere. It seems my mind is a stowaway on the train of thought.