Graduation wasn't just a ceremony; it was a turnstile everyone had to pass through, one by one, into a world that didn't hand out timetables anymore. After the caps were tossed and the photos were taken, life split into a dozen different roads that didn't always have clear signs.
Some classmates jumped straight into apprenticeships, trading textbooks for tool belts and learning from people who'd done the job for twenty years. Others booked hostels and one-way tickets, swearing they'd "find themselves" on a gap year that might stretch into two. A handful marched right into college lecture halls, some because their goals needed higher qualifications, some because their parents said it was the "smart move," and some because it sounded safer than admitting they had no idea what came next.
And then there were the ones who sprinted into the workforce. No safety net. No more excuses. Just a paycheck, a schedule, and the quiet pride of making money that was actually theirs.
