The child is gone. I last saw her running through a grassy field, waving a report card and screaming she was free, as she rushed toward her mother's car. That year she was twelve. The following year she would be a high school freshman. Yes, a teenager, but in her eyes, an adult. The teenage years are make-believe. She wore make-up and hip clothes. She became so wrapped up in her perfect dream world, it soon became her reality. The child was tucked away behind her playmask of an adult.

However, as with all dreams, one must at some time wake. Senior year came and, along with it, stress. The stress was more poisonous than any toxic substance known to man. It slowly began decaying and tearing away at the mask. These cracks in the mask led to airways for wind. Ice-cold winds of realization seeped in through the legions, slapping the child awake.

When I looked for the child in the land of mirrors, no more did I see her. The mask is still there but not as youthful as before. In its place is a young woman. She will be 18 soon enough. Eighteen - that magical age that separates you from a child. Life is full of challenges, and facing that real world is scary. It makes you want to scream or just plain end it all. Yet somehow it will eventually work its way out smoothly. The child will always be somewhere in my heart and forever in my memories. So, it is a good-bye to high school and welcome to life. Where did the time go? It seems like just yesterday that child was running toward her mother's car screaming she was free for the summer.