Throw it back to 2012: I arrived, greasy haired and eyeliner smudged, after an 8-hour drive up from the Carolinas. No one told me what I looked like that day would define how every chapel and Chuck’s scanner saw me for the next 48 months. But, alas, my student ID was born. Four years later and I still hate my student ID, but it’s graduation time and I’ve been attempting to come up with a way to describe what it's been like to live as one of the village people. As usual, twitter has come in clutch.
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Thanks for the good times, Cedarville!




























