I shivered as I slipped my burgandy Harvard sweatshirt over my head. Yet another reminder of the person I used to be.

Like the paintings on my wall or the cameras lined across my shelf. The saxophone in the corner in it’s banged up case. The folders of old reports and projects all marked w/ bold red A+’s.

I barely remember that person. She pleased everyone. Teachers loved her. Students asked for her help. She was the perfect golden child.

“Most Likely To Succeed.” “Student Body President.” “Editor-in-Chief.” “National Art Honor Society President.” “Gold Key Recipient.” “Valedictorian.”

She was easy to label.

I remember the shocked gasp from the audience. The stunned look on my parents’ faces.

That was my greatest accomplishment.

Standing in front of all those people, pulling that cap off my head, and resolutely saying, ” I just called Harvard and told them they could shove my deposit up their ass!” as I tossed that cap and walked away with my head held high.

5 years later and I’ve never turned back.