The One Where I FUCKING GRADUATED.

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So.

I GRADUATED, Y’ALL.

On May 13th, 2017 I graduated from VCU with my Bachelor’s of English. I’m still in complete shock of everything. It genuinely doesn’t feel real. I started my first semester of college in 2008, and as my dear grandmother would have said,

“Sometimes life just happens.”

And it did. I worked throughout about 90% of my college career balancing a part time job and full time school. Then two part time jobs and full time school. And then a full time job and full time school. I moved about five times. My father died from prostate cancer in 2010. I started to have my first real adult relationships, and one ended kind of bloody. One was a real case of sometimes you just have to learn. My severe anxiety and depression set in. Horrifically. And I had some job changes. I spent innumerable days and nights brushing off my friends and family so that I could study or do homework, asking my boyfriend if we could move date night so that I could study the night before a big exam, letting my friends and family and boyfriend know that we can hang out, but the homework comes with me. Spending so much time delirious and frustrated and angry and upset because jesus christ can this just be over with.

Technically it’s a matter of it’s almost over. My official graduation date as far as the books are concerned is August, but August grads walk in May. I have two summer classes to make it official, with the first one being three weeks and beginning tomorrow morning (Oi.), and the last one being six weeks and ending on July 22nd.

But it’s here. I’m done. These two classes will be here and gone before I know it and I can fully appreciate and let reality sink in.

That I finally have a bachelor’s degree. And that I fucking earned that shit.

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