Dear Graduates,
I know what you’re feeling right now. It seems like I snapped my fingers and 18 years have passed, but I recall well those moments leading up to graduation. Knowing I was about to part with what I’d known my whole life, with whom I’d known my whole life, ready to travel off to uncharted territory for my next venture. Only one thing was going through my mind—
I can’t believe I’m already graduating.
It sneaks up on you. One minute, you’re a freshman looking at the seniors in the halls—wow, they look OLD. The next, you’re getting your diploma, a young, accomplished adult yourself.
I wish I could see your faces as you take the stage during this monumental rite of passage.
Though I will not be there, I want you to know something—great things await, and it’s up to you to embrace them. Yes, you’ll continue to face challenges, ones unlike any you’ve experienced, but you will get through them. You’ll get through them with the same strength and persistence and hurt and tears that carried you here.
And that hurt—that hurt is not a bad thing. Muscles tear in order to build. Seeds crack in order to blossom. Struggle is in the fabric of our being, and I implore you—do not let it destroy you. Know that you—and you alone—have the autonomy to see the world in a better light. To see struggle as necessity, to see failure as opportunity. To become better than the anger and hatred that too many allow to consume their lives.
To quote Henley, you are the master of your fate, the captain of your soul.
So as you close this chapter and begin anew, hold your pen with conviction, your head with optimism, and above all, trust the unknown. I promise you—that trust, that faith, that belief—these make all the difference.
And what a difference you've already made—there’s no one in this world who can do what you do, who can be who you are.
And who you are is brilliant.
All my love,
Mr. Morelli
