Give a speech for your graduation, they said. It will be fun, a once-in-a-lifetime chance, they said. So there I sat at my desk, contemplating writer’s block and glaring at the cursor as if it held my words hostage in its ever-taunting blink. I will admit that, in typical senior fashion, I seriously considered surrendering and retreating to the safety of my well-loved Netflix account. After all, I asked myself: what could I – a horrendously geeky almost-graduate that just so happens to fear public speaking as much as I do bees, heights and our country’s abysmal political future – possibly have to offer you all today? Could I prattle on about our many achievements, or perhaps delve into the murky haze of our uncertain destinies? Could I speak of the significance of grades earned and tests passed, or bring myself to explain at painstaking length that the true meaning of the word commencement is beginning, as thousands of students have before me? No, I decided, I could not resort to such clichés – because you would not care to hear them, I would not care to write them and doing so would no doubt waste time that none of us would ever get back, as I am anything but the accomplished speaker who could convey the true meaning behind such concepts. It was in this way – through my ever-reliable sarcasm and a healthy dose of senioritis – that I finally found something I believe to be worth talking about: time.

Time is a fickle thing, one which rarely behaves to our liking. Though the measured descent of the sand through the hourglass and the rhythmic motion of the clock’s hands remain constant, our perception of the passing of time is ever-changing with age and experience. From the high school senior’s perspective, time lingers in math class, stops altogether in the period before lunch and travels backwards during the gym class we regret not taking sooner, yet manages to reach warp-speed at the push of a snooze button and the blink of a bleary, sleep-deprived eye. Come to think of it, time is a bit of a jerk. To manage our chaotic lives, we may often resort to setting any number of countdowns – make it to the end of the day, make it to the weekend, make it to the next break or holiday. When we reach one of these targets, we stop, reset and move on to the next one, over and over and over again. While the creation and achievement of personal goals are essential to successes like the one we celebrate today, we tend to overlook the subdued significance of the present far too often. It is this tendency that I now hope to address with a little trip down memory lane. Yes, I realize I am falling into the aforementioned realm of sentiment and trite statements that I swore to avoid. Alas, people are flawed creatures, and life isn’t fair. Humor me.

When we were younger, our time was measured by the adventures it contained: in games played and sweets eaten, in Saturday morning cartoons and Sunday funnies. Capture-the-flag and kickball were our true national pastimes. Grass stains and scraped knees were priceless trophies from days well-spent. Our imaginations were as entertaining as any toy, and we lost count of the times our parents had to chase us down when “five more minutes outside” came, went, and thus evolved into “get inside now.” We did not need the calendar to tell us what to celebrate or when to celebrate it; water wars, marshmallow roasts and the release of the latest Harry Potter movie were holidays all their own, and we observed each and every one of them with all necessary enthusiasm. We ran, smiled, laughed – simply put, we lived every day to its fullest, with not a second wasted on regrets or anything else.

Remember that? The passion we held for life and its most basic, undistinguished, magnificent moments? You should.

The goals we set are crucial to our growth and our progress, and the experience of achieving our goals is priceless in itself, but the actual process of reaching them – the journey itself, with all its ups and downs and every complexity and complication imaginable – holds immeasurable worth and boundless opportunity. We already know to value the momentous occasions: the graduations, the weddings, the anniversaries and birthdays. Life’s majority, however, is not spent in moments historic or transcendent, but in junctures wonderfully and remarkably unremarkable. To make the most of our time, we must appreciate these countless, seemingly insignificant pieces of life, because to do so is to value life itself, in all its multifaceted and mosaic glory.

It is not the amount of time in your life that truly matters; rather, it is the amount of life in your time. So please, enjoy every single second, whether they be momentous or marvelously mundane. Run. Smile. Laugh until it hurts, pause, and then start all over again. Chase your goals and your dreams unto distant horizons, and never fail to recognize the fleeting brilliance of the now. Regardless of how you decide to spend the time you are given, I wish each and every one of you every happiness in the lives you start today. No matter what we make our lives to be, let us make them good ones; as always, Revere, the choice is ours.

A wise man once expressed that all things – good and otherwise – must one day come to an end. As my time with the Lantern draws to a close, I find myself overwhelmed by the utter significance of the opportunities and experiences that I have had over the past four years. To my family, for their unwavering love and support throughout all stages and challenges of my life; to Mr. Alan Silvidi, for a skill and dedication to teaching rivaled only by his sizeable heart, brilliant mind and impeccable memory of all things Spongebob and Monty Python; and to my friends, for the loyalty, love and laughter they have so willingly shared with me; when it comes to you, I am rendered uncharacteristically speechless, as my words can do neither my gratitude nor your vast worth justice. More than anything, I have been honored to lead, to learn and to write.