Today was the day I was supposed to do the walk across the stage. Wearing a stuffy black robe and hat, likely sweating up a storm during the hours of wearing the thing. All to spend all of 10 seconds on the stage itself, getting an empty tube, shaking hands, then leaving again.
Today, I didn't do that. I woke up, got on my computer - and had it hit me that I wasn't walking. I had decided weeks, months ago that I wasn't going to walk, for a multitude of reasons. Some of it out of spite, some out of anger, but a big part of it being practicality - at least two of the most important people to my college education couldn't have attended because of the health implications of the graduation venue. So I made the decision to not walk, to instead invest into a graduation party - one where I could celebrate with everyone.
Today, it finally hit me. I saw pictures and cried. Cried for my lost walk, cried for sacrificing one of the things I have fought seven long years for. Cried for the fact that my parents, grandparents, Ron, myself - would not get to see my reward for a well fought battle.
Today, I will grieve for what I've given up. I will cry, and moan, and lament. I will hate the world. I will hate the school. I will hate my decision.
Tomorrow, I will get up. I will plan my party, plan my future. I will call my family, and wish my mother-figures a happy mother's day. I will play with Stormy, clean the house, contemplate whether I want a peanut butter sandwich or soup for lunch. I will continue the course I set seven years ago, when I decided to attend Purdue University Calumet.