15,552,000 seconds. 28 class periods. 180 days. A myriad of papers, literally. Dozens of textbooks. Miles ran. Meters swum. Saturday mornings sacrificed for standardized testing. Essays upon essays drafted and revised.

You can measure the past four years by countless units. By coffee cups, by the classes you loved and the classes you skipped, by the incessant ringing of the bell. The spirit days you partook in, or didn’t. The tests aced and flunked. The hours dedicated to essays and projects and the Common App, or the sounds of last-minute scribbling. Burning the midnight oil and slipping into the small hours for the sake of finishing that lab report, or merely sitting in the company of friends and watching the night tick on. You can measure the past four years by your own metric.

But this was only high school. It isn’t the pinnacle of your life, the so-called glory days. Those are yet to come. We’ve poured much into life since we wandered in as fourteen year-olds, and these experiences have culminated into the aggregate of our current selves. We’ve all endured so much under this roof of maroon and gold, ordeals which have united us into our own colorful mosaic of spirit and character.

But this was only high school. We have an entire epic stretched out ahead of us, brimming with various ambitions and aspirations and directions. Among us are mechanical engineers, fifth grade teachers, novelists, biochemists, politicians, playwrights. Among us simmers the future.

Together we compose these past four years; we have been influenced by countless voices and influences and occurrences. High school can only proffer so much; it is a stepping stone to leap off of into the enigmatic abyss of tomorrow.

So no matter how you measure these past 15,552,000 seconds, do not bear them as your testament, for there is a lifetime ahead of us.