In the spring morning, seedlings break through the soil and grow vigorously, their dreams dancing in the wind; on summer mornings, ripples dance on the blue water and colorful flowers tremble lightly, the heart of the wind dancing; in autumn, yellow leaves flutter and linger, dancing with their very life; on winter nights, snowflakes drift and swirl, dancing with their very soul. Senior year 3 is such a dance, a dance of hope, wearing shackles. Having moved past the casualness of the first year and shed the impatience of the second year, We light the candles of imagination and polish the lamps of hope, stepping forward calmly in the melody composed by light and shadow.
At eighteen, we no longer complain about the heaviness of the shackles. The expectations of our parents, the instructions of our teachers, and the beauty of tomorrow twinkle like stars in the night sky of senior year 3. We willingly bear this weight, for it contains the thickness of life; we cherish this heaviness wholeheartedly, for it is the warmest spring color in our lives.