Freshman year is sunflowers and rainbows
Small fish in a newer, bigger pond
Middle school is still remembered semi-fondly
Everyone is trying to impress each other
And loud screams echo in the halls as you pass the upperclassmen
Because attention means they're impressed
Even when they call you a freshman as if it were a slur
Sophomore year is growth
It is the year of pregnancy jokes and cringing at the thought of eighth grade year
You are still underclassmen, but your class is no longer a slur in the mouths of those older than you
And now, despite how much you hated hearing it yourself,
You can't help but find yourself saying "freshman" the same way it was said to you last year
Junior year is the year of torments
It's the year of your first true love
The year of new friends and saying goodbyes
It's the year you realize time is running out on what is left of your childhood
So you act and feel invincible as though tragedy can never touch you
Junior year is the year you realize academics are vital
So you stop skipping by classes and actually pay attention
It's the year you finally prioritize your life
You get a job, you learn to drive if you haven't already
You figure yourself out, or at least you try to
Senior year is I don't care and get me out of here
Senioritis has fully kicked in
You want out of high school and you're ready for graduation
You've accepted your fate to become another cog in the clockwork of life
You feel prepared but still scared
Senior year is a hopeful see you later
When it really feels like a final goodbye
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