There’s a moment right after they call your name, when you walk across the stage, that everything feels suspended—like time holds its breath for just a second. You grip the diploma (or the fancy cover that will eventually hold it), smile for the camera, and step into something new. But before all that, before the cheers and the parties and the caps thrown in the air, there’s a quieter, heavier goodbye happening under the surface.

Graduation is weird like that.

It’s an ending that doesn't feel like one until you’re sitting in your room the next morning realizing you don’t have to set an alarm for class. It’s joy tangled up with sadness, pride holding hands with fear. Your heart is both soaring and aching.

In high school, graduation feels like stepping off the edge of something safe. The hallways you've walked a thousand times, the teachers who knew when you were having a bad day without you saying a word, the routine you swore you were sick of—it all suddenly means more than you thought. You pack up your locker and your childhood in the same breath.

In college, graduation feels like looking back at the version of yourself who moved into a dorm four years ago with way too many throw pillows and not nearly enough life experience. You’ve laughed so hard you cried, cried so hard you grew, and built friendships that feel like home. You've pulled all-nighters, questioned your choices, discovered your voice, and maybe even found out who you really are—or who you want to be.

But no matter where you're graduating from, there’s something universal about this moment: the deep-down knowing that everything is about to change.

And it’s okay to be scared.

It’s okay to mourn the parts of life you're leaving behind, even as you celebrate the ones you’re stepping into. You’re not ungrateful for the future just because you're sad about the past. That’s being human.

So here’s to the lasts—the last group project, the last walk to school with your best friend, the last time someone calls you by your school ID number. And here’s to the firsts—the first job, the first apartment, the first moment you realize you’re okay, even when everything is new.

You made it. You earned this. You survived, you struggled, you succeeded. You are not the same person who started this journey. And that’s the point, isn’t it?

Graduation isn’t just a ceremony. It’s a love letter to who you’ve been and a promise to who you’re becoming.