As I ready to don my ceremonial cloak and hood, I look back on the past months with fond memory. All the happy hours of knitting as miles of dark yarn passed through my fingers. The promise of each pucker and ruffle, like the darkness of space itself, the darkness of the force, and always waiting for fate to unfold; waiting to spread my dark wings and fly. Waiting for today. All that is left is to cross the stage, receive my diploma, and (lest I seem ungrateful for all my training) assasinate the emperor as I exit, leaving a vacancy I am ready to fill. Yes, it was tough at the end, but it always is, and you learn that is has to be that way. Now all adversity has been overcome, and I wait, triumphant, for the final strains of pomp and circumstance (still a classic) to die away, and for my future to begin.