Every time you eat, you create a story. In that sense, food is what makes me happy. It helps me remember the simplicity of happy memories associated with good food, especially when I know that the time I spend with those around me is limited. Just last week, I was at Il Vecchio, a small Italian restaurant famous for their handmade pasta and gelato, with some of my senior friends, who were about to graduate in two days.
The day has finally come where I get to stand on the Rosen stage and receive my diploma. It seems so surreal because I don't remember a time when I wasn't a pirate.
As May comes, things on campus get sentimental. Seniors are graduating, and the year is arriving at an end. Personally, I am also looking at a new journey next year.
I talk about how it feels to do my last performance at Stevenson.
Pain surged through my fingers as I persevered through the last sentence of my short essay question. The crackling of my joints echoed as I straightened up in my chair. The waning moments of the exam were approaching, and I had finished just in time. As I placed my answer booklet at the top of the pile, I was officially liberated from the AP Biology exam, as well as from the stress, worrying, and physical fatigue that trailed along with it.