I've been putting off writing this senior column for a few days now, making excuses as to why I can't do it.

I know once I finish this piece -- once I put that last period at the end of that last sentence I'll be one step closer to graduating.

I'll be one step closer to the real world, to an internship halfway across the United States.

It's horrifying.

I'm not talking about anxiety, or nervousness or trepidation about moving on to a different part of life.

I'm talking full-blown terror complete with hyperventilation.

When I think about the future I get this huge feeling of dread, or something.

It's truly hard to describe, but maybe other seniors are going through the same thing.

It's like -- it's like when I shut my eyes I see my future as this huge black cloud and all roads lead directly into it.

Every day this cloud gets a little bigger.

It just sits there, taunting me, knowing that I'm going to have to face it sooner or later.

What's worse is that it's just this huge, big, black, scary-looking thunderhead, and I can't see into it -- I can't quite discern what the future holds for me.

As I get closer to this cloud things become a little clearer, but it's not crystal, not by a long shot -- I'm still unsure.

I feel like Holden Caufield, from Catcher in the Rye.

I'm kicking and screaming every chance I get, just trying to prolong the inevitable.

Like, when Holden runs away from school and hangs out in New York City for a couple days before he has to finally go home and face the music and tell his parents that he's been kicked out of school, yet again.

The entire time he's acting like an adult, trying to order drinks at bars, hitting on ladies -- he even orders a prostitute.

Inside, though, he's really just a scared kid. He's running away from his problems instead of staring them in the eye.

And that's how I feel -- like I'm running away -- procrastinating, skipping class, squandering money.

I think I'm gonna be all right though -- call it a hunch.

Actually, it's more than a hunch -- it's what separates me from Holden Caufield:

My parents.

I realize now the difference between me and Holden Caufield is our support systems.

While Holden got shipped off to numerous boarding schools, I've always had my parents behind me telling me that everything's going to be great.

My parents are the hardest working people I've ever met -- sometime it makes me feel awful.

They've given me so much and I feel like I haven't really worked for anything yet -- not like they have, anyway.

I brag about my parents all the time to friends, but it's hard to tell them.

I guess I have to do it through this column.

That's the great thing about a senior column though; I can do whatever I want.

Now, the great thing about good parents is that they'll be there for you whenever you need it.

The other great thing about good parents is they know how much you appreciate them, even when you can't just say it.

They were kids too once, however long ago that may have been.

I'm sure they had the same problem with their parents.

I'm sure I won't fully realize how much my mom and dad have done for me until I have kids of my own (which is an idea that is equally terrifying for me and society as a whole).

I have this memory from when I was a kid.

I had a Ninja Turtle phase, just like everyone else (actually, I think I'm still going through mine), and I was playing the role of Michaelangelo in the living room around Christmas time.

Well, as rambunctious a child as I was, it wasn't surprising to my parents when they heard a "Hiya!" followed by a huge "thump" come from my makeshift dojo.

I can't imagine their reaction to the scene they entered upon.

I say "imagine" because I had a face full of pine needles, ornaments and candy canes so I couldn't see anything.

I had ninja-kicked the tree onto myself.

Luckily, I didn't break any bones. Unfortunately, I did break my mom's favorite ornament, a tiny crystal dove.

She could have been furious, but instead she was just happy I wasn't hurt.

The story's a little lame, I know. But it sums up good parenting perfectly.

It really is amazing in its simplicity.

Good parents just want to make sure you're all right.

My parents are great.

So I guess although I can't see what's inside that big, black thunderhead, maybe it's not as scary as I first thought.

I'm still frightened at the idea of being "on my own," but I feel like maybe now I can stare down that cloud.

I know my parents will be right there behind me if I need them -- just making sure that I'm all right.